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LONGMANS'    ENGLISH    CLASSICS 

EDITED    BY 

GEORGE    RICE   CARPENTER,    A.B., 

Professor  of  Rhetoric  and  English  Composition  in  Columbia  College. 

This  series  is  designed  for  use  in  secondary  schools  in  accordance 
with  the  system  of  study  recommended  and  outlined  by  the  National 
Committee  of  Ten,  and  in  direct  preparation  for  the  uniform  entrance 
requirements  in  English,  now  adopted  by  the  principal  American  colleges 
and  universities. 

Each  volume  contains  full  Notes,  Introductions,  Bibliographies, 
and  other  explanatory  and  illustrative  matter.     Crown  8vo,  cloth. 

Books  Prescribed  for  the  i8gj  Examinations. 

FOR    READING. 

Shakspere's  As  You  Like  It.  With  an  introduction  by  Barrett 
Wendell,  A.B.,  Assistant  Professor  of  English  in  Harvard  Univer- 
sity, and  notes  by  William  Lyon  Phelps,  Ph.D.,  Instructor  in 
English  Literature  in  Yale  University. 

Defoe's  History  of  the  Plague  in  London.  Edited,  with  intro- 
duction and  notes,  by  Professor  G.  R.  Carpenter,  of  Columbia 
College.     With  Portrait  of  Defoe. 

Irving's  Tales  of  a  Traveller.  With  an  introduction  by  Brander 
Matthews,  Professor  of  Literature  in  Columbia  College,  and  ex- 
planatory notes  by  the  general  editor  of  the  series.  With  Portrait  of 
Irving. 

George  Eliot's  Silas  Marner.  Edited, with  introduction  and  notes, 
by  Robert  Herrick,  A.B.,  Assistant  Professor  of  Rhetoric  in  the 
University  of  Chicago.     With  Portrait  of  George  Eliot. 

FOR    STUDY. 

Shakspere's  Merchant  of  Venice.  Edited,  with  introduction  and 
notes,  by  Francis  B.  Gummere,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  English  in 
Haverford  College.     With  Portrait  of  Shakspere. 

Burke's  Speech  on  Conciliation  with  America.  Edited,  with 
introduction  and  notes,  by  Albert  S.  Cook,  Ph.D.,  L.H.D., 
Professor  of  the  English  Language  and  Literature  in  Yale  University. 
With  Portrait  of  Burke. 

Scott's  Marmion.  Edited,  with  introduction  and  notes,  by  Robert 
MoRSS  Lovett,  A.B.,  Assistant  Professor  of  English  in  the 
University  of  Chicago.     With  Portrait  of  Sir  Walter  Scott. 

Macaulay's  Life  of  Samuel  Johnson.  Edited,  with  introduction 
and  notes,  by  the  Rev.  Huber  Gray  Buehler,  of  the  Hotchkiss 
School,  Lakeville,  Conn.     With  Portrait  of  Johnson. 


LONGMANS'    ENGLISH     CLASSICS— Co;///;/w^^. 
Books  Prescribed  for  the  i8g8  Examinations. 

FOR    READING, 

Milton's  Paradise  Lost.  Books  I.  and  II.  Edited,  with  introduc- 
tion and  notes,  by  Edward  Everett  Hale,  Jr.,  Ph.D.,  Professor 
of  Rhetoric  and  Logic  in  Union  College.     With  Portrait  of  Milton. 

Pope's  Homer's  Iliad.  Books  I.,  VI.,  XXII.,  and  XXIV.  Edited, 
with  introduction  and  notes,  by  William  H.  Maxwell,  A.M., 
Superintendent  of  Public  Instruction,  Brooklyn,  N.Y.,  and  Percival 
Chubb,  of  the  Manual  Training  High  School,  Brooklyn.  With 
Portrait  of  Pope. 

The  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  Papers,  from  *'The  Spectator." 
Edited,  with  introduction  and  notes,  by  D.  O.  S.  Lowell,  A.M., 
English  Master  in  the  Roxbury  Latin  School,  Roxbury,  Mass.  With 
Portrait  of  Addison. 

Goldsmith's  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield.  Edited,  with  introduction 
and  notes,  by  Mary  A.  Jordan,  A.M.,  Professor  of  Rhetoric  and 
Old  Enghsh  in  Smith  College.     With  Portrait  of  Goldsmith. 

Coleridge's  The  Rime  of  the  Ancient  Mariner.  Edited,  with 
introduction  and  notes,  by  Herbert  Bates,  A.B.,  Instructor  in 
English  in  the  University  of  Nebraska.     With  Portrait  of  Coleridge. 

Southey's  Life  of  Nelson.  Edited,  with  introduction  and  notes,  by 
Edwin  L.  Miller,  A.M.,  of  the  Englewood  High  School,  Illinois. 
With  Portrait  of  Nelson. 

Carlyle's  Essay  on  Burns.  Edited,  with  introduction  and  notes,  by 
Wilson  Farrand,  A.M.,  Associate  Principal  of  the  Newark  Acad- 
emy, Newark,  N.  J.     With  Portrait  of  Burns. 

FOR    STUDY, 

Shakspere's  Macbeth.  Edited,  with  introduction  and  notes,  by 
John  Matthews  Manly,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  the  English  Language 
in  Brown  University.     With  Portrait  of  Shakspere. 

Burke's  Speech  on  Conciliation  with  America.  Edited,  with 
introduction  and  notes,  by  Albert  S.  Cook,  Ph.D.,  L.H.D., 
Professor  of  the  English  Language  and  Literature  in  Yale  University. 
With  Portrait  of  Burke. 

De  Quincey's  Flight  of  a  Tartar  Tribe.  Edited,  with  introduc- 
tion and  notes,  by  Charles  Sears  Baldwin,  Ph.D.,  Instructor  in 
Rhetoric  in  Yale  University.     With  Portrait  of  De  Quincey. 

Tennyson's  The  Princess.  Edited,  with  introduction  and  notes,  by 
George  Edward  Woodberry,  A.B.,  Professor  of  Literature  in 
Columbia  College.     With  Portrait  of  Tennyson. 

*:!:*  See  list  of  the  series  at  end  of  volume  for  books  prescribed  for 

/Son  niirf  TQOO. 


LONGMANS'  ENGLISH  CLASSICS 

EDITED  BY 

GEORGE   RICE   CARPENTER,  A.B. 

PROFESSOR  OP  RHETORIC   AND   ENGLISH   COMPOSITION  IN  COLUMBIA   COLLEGE 


THOMAS   CARLYLE 


ESSAY  ON  BURNS 


LONGMANS'  ENGLISH  CLASSICS 

With  full  Notes,  Introductions,  Bibliographies,  and  other  Explanatory  and 
Illustrative  Matter.    Crown  8vo.    Cloth. 


Shakspere's  Merchant  of  Venice. 
Editea  by  Francis B.Gummere,Fh.D., 
Professor  of  English  in  Haverford 
College. 

Shakspere's  As  You  Like  It.  With 
an  Introduction  by  Barrett  Wendell, 
A.B  ,  Assistant  Professor  of  English 
in  Harvard  University,  and  Notes  by 
William  Lyon  Phelps,  Ph.D.,  Instruc- 
tor in  English  Literature  in  Yale 
University. 

Shakspere's  A  Midsummer  Night's 
Dream.  Edited  by  George  Pierce 
Baker,  A.  B.,  Assistant  Professor  of 
English  in  Harvard  University. 

Shakspere's  Macbeth.  Edited  by 
John  Matthews  Manly,  Ph.D.,  Pro- 
fessor of  the  English  Language  in 
Brown  University. 

Milton's  L'Allegro,  II  Penseeoso, 
CoMus,  AND  Lycidas.  Edited  by 
William  P.  Trent,  A.M.,  Professor  of 
English  in  the  University  of  the  South. 

Milton's  Paradise  Lost.  Books  I. 
AND  II.  Edited  by  Edward  Everett 
Hale,  Jr.,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  Rhetoric 
and  Logic  in  Union  College. 

Pope's  Homer's  Iliad.  Books  I., 
VI.,  XXII.,  AND  XXIV.  Edited  by 
William   H.    Maxwell,  A.M.,  Ph.D., 

Superintendent  of  Public  Instruction, 
Brooklyn,  N.  Y.,  and  Percival  Chubb, 
Instructor  in  English,  Manual  Training 
High  School,  Brooklyn. 

Defoe's  History  of  the  Plague  in 
London.  Edited  by  Professor  G.  K. 
Carpenter,  of  Columbia  College. 

The  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  Papers, 
fiom  "The  Spectator."  Edited  by 
D.  O.  S.  Lowell,  A.M.,  of  the  Roxbury 
Latin  School,  Roxbury,  Mass. 

Goldsmith's  The  Vicar  OF  Wakefield. 
Edited  by  Mary  A.  Jordan,  A.  M., 
Proff'ssor  of  Rhetoric  and  Old  En ^rlish 
in  Smith  College. 

Burke's  Speech  on  Conciliation  with 
America.  Edited  by  Albert  S.  (Jook, 
Ph.D.,  L.H.D.,  Professor  of  the  Eng- 
lish Language  and  Literature  in  Yale 
University. 


Scott's  Woodstock.  Edited  by  Bliss 
Perry,  A.  M,,  Professor  of  Oratory 
and  Esthetic  Criticism  in  Princeton 
College. 

Scott's  Marmion.  Edited  by  Robert 
Morss  Lovett,  A.B.,  Assistant  Pro- 
fessor of  English  in  the  University  of 
Chicago. 

Macaulay's  Essay  on  Milton.  Edited 
by  James  Greenleaf  Croswell,  A.B., 
Head-master  of  the  Brearley  School, 
New  York,  formerly  Assistant  Pro- 
fessor of  Greek  in  Harvard  University. 

Macaulay's  Lifb  of  Samuel  Johnson. 
Edited  by  the  Rev.  Huber  Gray 
Buehler,  of  the  Hotchkiss  School, 
Lakeville,  Conn. 

Irving's  Tales  of  a  Traveller.   With 

an  Introduction  by  Brander  Matthews, 
Professor  of  Literature  in  Columbia 
College,  and  Explanatory  Notes  by  the 
general  editor  of  the  series. 

Webster's  First  Bunker  Hill  Ora- 
tion, together  with  other  Addresses 
relating  to  the  Revolution.  Edited  by 
Fred  Newton  Scott,  Ph.D.,  Junior 
Profe^sor  of  Rhetoric  in  the  University 
of  Michigan. 

Coleridge's  The  Rime  of  the  Ancient 
Mariner.  Edited  by  Herbert  Bates, 
A.B.,  formerly  Instructor  in  English 
in  the  University  of  Nebraska. 

Southey's  Life  of  Nelson.  Edited  by 
Edwin  L.  Miller,  A.M.,  of  the  Engle- 
wood  High  School,  Illinois. 

Carlyle's  Essay  on  Burns.  Edited 
by  Wilson  Farrand,  A.M.,  Associate 
Principal  of  the  Newark  Academy, 
Newark,  N.  J. 

De  Quincey's  Flight  of  a  Tartar 
Tribe  (Revolt  of  the  Tartars). 
Edited  by  Charles  Sears  Baldwin, 
Ph.D.,  Instructor  in  Rhetoric  in  Yale 
University. 

Tennyson's  The  Princess.  Edited  by 
Georee  Edward  Woodberry,  A.B., 
Professor  of  Literature  in  Columbia 
College. 

George  Eliot's  Silas  Marner.  Edited 
by  Robert  Herrick,  A.B.,  Assistant 
Professor  of  Rhetoric  in  the  University 
of  Chicago. 


Other  Volumes  are  in  Preparation. 


ROBERT  BURNS 
(After  the  painting  by  Alexander  Nasmyth) 


Congmang'  ggnglisl)  g!;oasji.;&, 


CARLYLE'S 

ESSAY  ON  BURNS 


EDITED 

WITH   NOTES   AND  AN   INTRODUCTION 


WILSON   FARRAND,  A.M. 

ASSOCIATE   PRINCIPAL  OF  THE  NEWARK  ACADEMY 


NEW  YORK 
LONGMANS,  GREEN,  AND  CO. 

LONDON  AND  BOMBAY 
1896 


Copyright,  1896 

BY 

LONGMANS,  GREEN,  AND  CO. 


All  rights  reserved 


HEHnv Mo 


'^<»*-    w  . 


-^^^£W4 


Press  of  J .  J .  Little  &  Co. 
Astor  Place,  New  York 


PREFACE 

Ik  the  list  of  books  drawn  up  by  the  Conference  on 
Uniform  Entrance  Requirements  in  Englisli,  Carlyle's 
''  Essay  on  Burns  "  is  prescribed  for  reading  in  1898,  and 
for  study  in  1899. 

This  edition  has  been  prepared  with  a  view  to  careful 
study,  as  it  is  evident  that  a  book  thus  prepared  will  serve 
equally  well  for  more  cursory  reading.  The  concluding 
portion  of  Carlyle's  lecture  on  "  The  Hero  as  Man  of  Let- 
ters " — the  fifth  in  the  course  on  "  Heroes  and  Hero  Wor- 
ship," delivered  in  London,  in  1840 — is  appended  as 
affording  an  interesting  comparison  with  the  earlier  and 
more  elaborate  essay  on  the  same  subject.  As  this  passage 
is  intended,  however,  only  for  supplementary  reading,  and 
not  for  study,  it  has  not  been  annotated.  In  the  "  Essay 
on  Burns"  Carlyle  makes  many  quotations  from  various 
sources.  As  it  is  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to  trace  many 
of  these  quotations,  and  as  a  knowledge  of  their  origin  is 
of  no  value  whatever  as  an  aid  to  the  understanding  of  the 
essay,  no  attempt  has  been  made  to  treat  them  fully  in  tlie 
notes. 

The  thought  of  the  editor  throughout  has  been  that 
the  primary  aim  in  the  study  of  this  essay  should  be  to  in- 
troduce the  student  to  Carlyle  and  his  works;  but  it  has 
also  been  borne  constantly  in  mind  tliat  this  study  will  fail 
far  short  of  its  purpose  if  it  fails  to  awaken  also  an  inter- 
est in  the  life  and  songs  of  Robert  Burns. 

W.  F. 

Newark,  N.  J.,  August  1,  1896. 


514129 


CONTENTS 

Introduction  : 

PAGE 

I.  Thomas  Carlyle ix 

II.  Carlyle's  Writings  and  Influence       ....  xix 

III.  The  Essay  on  Burns xxv 

IV.  Robert  Burns xxvii 

Suggestions  for  Teachers xxxv 

Specimen  Topics  for  Written  Exercises    ...  Hi 

Specimen  Examination  Questions Iv 

Chronological  Table— Burns Ivii 

Chronological  Table— Carlyle Iviii 

Essay  on  Burns 1 

The  Hero  as  Man  of  Letters— Robert  Burns    .        .  68 

Explanatory  Notes 76 


INTRODUCTION 

I.  Thomas  Carlyle. 

Thomas  Carlyle,  the  author  of  the  ^'  Essay  on  Burns," 
is  one  of  the  most  striking  figures  in  the  literary  life  of  the 
nineteenth  century.  He  described  himself  as  ^^  a  writer  of 
books/'  and  it  was  to  this  end,  the  writing  of  books,  that 
he  devoted  his  life.  His  life  was  quiet  and  retired,  and,  to 
a  considerable  extent,  was  passed  even  in  obscurity.  His 
personality,  however,  made  a  marked  impression  on  all 
whom  he  met,  and  this,  coupled  with  the  interest  roused 
by  the  intense  individuality  of  his  writings,  has  brought  it 
about  that  the  details  of  his  life  and  character  are  better 
known  than  those  of  almost  any  other  author  of  recent  times. 

AVith    some   wn>.ftr«j  lij^jR^fyxitP     snffiaiaj^l^tn    Vnnw-44wm^ 

only  from_their__works^but  with  Carlyle  the  case  is  differ- 
ent. jHe  was  so  impetuous,  so  intense,  so  uncanv^iitional 
injnojight  and  feeling,  and  these  traits  are  so  clearly 
reflected  in  his  writing,  that  it  is  almost  impossible  to  ap- 
preciate his  works  rightly  without  some  knowledge  of  the 
man. 

He  was  born  in  the  little  village  of  Ecclefechan,  in  the 
county  of  Dumfries,  Scotland,  on  the  4th  of  December, 
1795.  His  father  was  a  mason,  and  had  built  with  his  own 
hands  the  house  in  which  his  famous  son  was  born.  He 
was  a  man  highly  respected  for  his  stern  uprightness  and 
thoroughness  of  work,  while  he  evidently  possessed  a  char- 
acter far  above  the  ordinary  in  strength.  Carlyle  says  of 
him:  "  More  remarkable  man  than  my  father  I  have  never 


X  INTRODUCTION 

met  in  my  journey  through  life;  sterling  sincerity  in 
thought,  word,  and  deed;  most  quiet,  but  capable  of  blaz- 
ing into  whirlwinds  when  needful;  and  such  a  flash  of 
just  insight  and  brief  natural  eloquence  and  emphasis,  true 
to  every  feature  of  it,  as  I  have  never  known  in  any  other." 
It  is  easy  to  see  where  Carlyle  obtained  some  of  his  traits. 
His  mother  also  was  a  woman  of  great  force  of  character, 
although  neither  she  nor  her  husband  possessed  the  culture 
derived  from  books. 

Thomas  was  taught  to  read  by  his  mother  at  a  very  early 
age.  At  five  his  father  began  to  teach  him  arithmetic  and 
sent  him  to  the  village  school.  At  seven,  an  Inspector  of 
schools  reported  him  to  be  '^  complete  in  English."  Latin 
he  studied  with  the  village  minister,  and  at  the  age  of 
ten  he  was  sent  to  the  grammar  school  at  Annan.  After 
four  years  here  it  was  decided  that  he  should  enter  the 
University  of  Edinburgh,  and,  accordingly,  when  not  yet 
fourteen,  he  walked  the  eighty  miles  from  Ecclefechan, 
and  presented  himself  for  admission.  Comparatively  little 
is  known  of  his  life  at  the  university.  He  worked  well, 
but  apparently  did  more  of  general  reading  than  of  study. 
He  won  no  prizes,  although  he  distinguished  himself  in 
mathematics,  but  his  intimate  friends  recognized  his  abil- 
ity, and  prophesied  his  future  distinction.  When  he  com- 
pleted the  course  in  arts  in  1814,  it  was  his  intention  to 
enter  the  ministry,  but  it  was  necessary  to  find  some  means 
of  support  until  he  was  ready  for  ordination.  Teaching 
seemed  to  ofi'er  the  most  available  opening,  and  after  com- 
petition, he  was  appointed  mathematical  tutor  in  his  old 
school  at  Annan.  After  two  years  at  Annan  he  received  a 
similar  appointment  at  Kirkcaldy,  where  he  also  remained 
two  years.  Carlyle  did  not  like  teaching — he  was  always 
intolerant  of  work  prescribed — and  in  1818  he  concluded 
that  ^^it  were  better  to  perish  than  to  continue  school- 
mastering,"  resigned  his  position,  and  went  again  to  Edin- 


INTRODUCTION  xi 

burgh.  In  the  meantime  he  had  definitely  given  up  his 
idea  of  entering  the  ministry,  and  was  seriously  hesitating 
as  to  what  career  he  should  enter  upon. 

The  next  three  years  spent  in  Edinburgh  were,  perhaps, 
the  most  wretched  of  his  life.  The  dyspepsia,  which  tor- 
tured him  so  in  later  years,  had  already  begun  to  trouble 
him,  he  was  harassed  by  doubts  as  to  what  course  in  life 
he  should  follow,  and  he  eked  out  a  precarious  existence 
while  attending  law  lectures  and  reading,  by  teaching  pri- 
vate pupils  and  writing  hack  articles  for  Brewster's  "  Edin- 
burgh Encyclopaedia." 

In  1822,  when  Carlyle  was  twenty-six  years  of  age,  his 
friend,  Edward  Irving,  procured  him  a  position  as  tutor 
to  the  children  of  a  wealthy  family  named  Buller,  at  a 
salary  of  £200  a  year.  This  position  he  held  for  two 
years.  In  the  meantime  he  had  completed  and  published 
his  "Life  of  Schiller"  and  a  translation  of  Goethe's 
"Wilhelm  Meister's  Apprenticeship."  These  works 
brought  him  considerable  reputation  and  some  money. 
After  about  a  year  of  freedom,  Carlyle  established  himself 
at  Hoddam  Hill,  a  farm  not  far  from  his  birthplace,  leased 
for  him  by  his  father.  His  brother  Alexander  managed 
the  farm,  while  Thomas  occupied  himself  with  writing — 
mostly  translations  from  the  German. 

In  1826  occurred  one  of  the  most  momentous  events  in 
Carlyle's  career,  his  marriage  to  Miss  Welsh.  Few  unions 
of  literary  folk  have  caused  so  much  discussion  and  com- 
ment as  this  marriage,  and  certainly  nothing  has  done  so 
much,  whether  rightly  or  wrongly,  to  injure  the  estimation 
in  which  Carlyle  is  held.  What  follows  may  seem  to  give 
undue  emphasis  to  Carlyle's  married  life,  but  it  should  be 
remembered  that  in  no  other  way  is  it  possible  to  gain 
so  clear  an  insight  into  his  character.  Jane  Baillie  Welsh 
was  in  many  repects  a  most  remarkable  woman.  Sprightly, 
clever,  and  even  brilliant  she  undoubtedly  was  ;  an  only 


xii  INTRODUCTION 

child,  to  a  certain  extent  indulged  and  spoiled,  she  was  also 
wilful  and  capricious,  and  her  cleverness  not  infrequently 
took  the  form  of  sharpness.  It  was  a  strange  courtship 
hetween  these  two — he,  rugged,  persistent,  dominant,  un- 
couth; she,  keen,  clever,  refined,  discriminating;  but  both 
with  their  common  enjoyment  and  love  of  literature.  At 
first  Carlyle  seems  to  have  "  excited  her  ridicule  even  more 
than  he  attracted  her  esteem."  Gradually,  however,  their 
friendship  deepened,  and  at  last,  after  five  years  of  ac- 
quaintance, she  consented  to  marry. 

To  their  friends  they  appeared  to  be  happily  enough 
married,  but  when,  after  Mrs.  Carlyle's  death,  her  letters 
and  journal  were  published,  there  was  revealed  a  tale  of 
unhappiness  and  misery  that  called  down  a  flood  of  exe- 
cration and  revilement  on  the  name  of  her  unfortunate 
husband,  and  caused  her  to  be  glorified  as  a  martyr  to  the 
whims  of  a  man  of  genius.  Time,  and  a  realization  of  the 
fact  that  Mrs.  Carlyle  was  as  much  given  to  exaggerating 
trifles  as  was  her  husband,  have  brought  about  a  softening 
of  this  extreme  view;  but  even  at  the  best,  the  story  of 
their  married  life  contains  much  that  is  pitiful.  There 
was  genuine  affection  on  both  sides,  but  the  expression  of 
that  affection  was  painfully  absent.  Carlyle  was  undoubt- 
edly a  difficult  man  to  live  with,  and  Mrs.  Carlyle  was 
most  devoted  in  her  efforts  to  shield  him  from  annoyance. 
Always  a  sufferer  from  dyspepsia,  he  was  very  particular 
as  to  his  food,  and  intolerant  if  things  were  not  to  his 
taste.  Mrs.  Carlyle  learned  to  cook  that  she  might  make 
more  certain  of  his  being  pleased.  He  was  terribly  sensi- 
tive to  noise,  and  his  work  or  his  sleep  was  constantly  being 
interrupted  by  some  of  the  ordinary  sounds  of  every-day 
life.  Mrs.  Carlyle,  who  shared  this  sensitiveness,  was 
unwearied  and  most  ingenious  in  her  efforts  to  suppress  or 
mitigate  the  neighboring  dogs,  roosters,  hand-organs,  par- 
rots, and  pianos.      In  every  way  she  slaved  and  denied 


INTRODUCTION  xiii 

lierself  in  order  to  leave  liis  life  as  free  as  possible  to  devote 
to  his  writing.  On  the  other  hand,  Carlyle  was  absorbed 
in  his  work,  and  accepted  what  she  did  for  him  as  a  matter 
of  course.  When  things  did  not  suit  him  he  grumbled 
and  growled  in  terrific  fashion;  when  they  went  well  he 
placidly  continued  his  work,  calmly  indifferent  to  the 
pleasure  and  happiness  that  might  have  been  given  by  the 
simplest  expressions  of  appreciation  and  sympathy. 

But  the  blame  was  not  all  on  one  side.  If  Carlyle  was 
grumpy  and  querulous,  Mrs.  Carlyle  was  not  a  silent  mar- 
tyr. She  bore  all  sorts  of  drudgery  for  his  sake,  but  not 
in  silence.  She  did  it,  but  she  told  of  it  afterward.  Her 
feelings  were  as  intense,  and,  in  her  way,  she  was  as  unrea- 
sonable as  her  husband.  The  ordinary  accidents  of  domes- 
tic life  were  terrific  in  her  eyes,  and  nothing  was  weakened 
in  the  telling  of  it.  Nor  did  her  sharp  tongue  spare  her 
husband.  She  spoke  her  mind  with  freedom,  and  even  was 
known  to  ridicule  him  to  her  friends  before  his  face. 
Thirty  years  after  their  marriage  she  wrote,  "  I  married 
for  ambition,  Carlyle  has  exceeded  all  that  my  wildest 
hopes  ever  imagined  of  him,  and  I  am  miserable."  Again 
she  wrote  to  a  young  friend,  "  My  dear,  whatever  you 
do,  never  marry  a  man  of  genius." 

Their  married  life  Avas  what  might  have  been  expected. 
Carlyle  was  a  man  absolutely  unsuited  to  domestic  life.  His 
intimate  friend  and  biographer,  Fronde,  says  of  him,  "  Of 
all  the  men  I  have  ever  seen,  Carlyle  was  the  least  patient 
of  the  common  woes  of  humanity."  His  writing  was  a 
passion  with  him;  he  was  wholly  absorbed  in  it  to  the  ex- 
clusion of  everything  and  every  one  else.  It  has  been  well 
said  that  what  he  needed  was  not  a  wife  and  companion, 
but  a  housekeeper  and  nurse.  He  chose  "  a  woman  almost 
as  ambitious  as  himself,  whose  conversation  was  only  less 
brilliant  than  his  own,  loyal  to  death,  but,  according  to 
Mr.   Fronde,   in  some  respects  'as  hard   as   flint,'    with 


xiv  INTRODUCTION 

'  dangerous  sparks  of  fire^ '  whose  quick  temper  found 
vent  in  sarcasms  tliat  blistered^  and  words  like  swords 
.  .  .  who  found  herself  obliged  to  live  sixteen  miles 
from  the  nearest  neighbour^  to  milk  a  cow^  scour  floors, 
and  mend  shoes."  Small  wonder  that  there  was  unhap- 
piness  in  their  union,  and  less  that  it  was  the  more  sensi- 
tive, less  absorbed  wife  who  suffered  the  most!  And  yet 
it  should  not  be  imagined  that  tlieir  life  together  was  all 
bickering  and  unhappiness.  Their  marriage  undoubtedly 
brought  them  a  great  deal  of  real  happiness.  Each  had  a 
genuine  aifection  for  the  other.  Mrs.  Carlyle  was  proud 
of  her  husband's  ability  and  success,  and  he  of  her  bril- 
liance and  charm.  Their  intellectual  tastes  were  similar, 
and  they  enjoyed  a  great  deal  of  delightful  companionship. 
But  Oarlyle  was  unsuited  to  married  life  with  anyone  of 
feeling  and  sensitiveness,  neither  was  adapted  to  enduring 
the  trials  of  ordinary  life,  much  less  of  comparative  pov- 
erty, and  the  result  was  a  union  that  has  become  proverbial 
for  the  suifering  it  brought. 

For  eighteen  months  after  their  marriage  they  lived 
quietly  at  Edinburgh,  Carlyle  busy  with  his  writing,  and 
successful  in  having  a  number  of  articles  accepted  by  the 
reviews.  But  these  did  not  bring  in  sufficient  money  to 
support  them,  and  ia  1828  they  decided  to  remove  to 
Oraigenputtock,  a  lonely  little  farm,  sixteen  miles  from 
Dumfries,  that  belonged  to  Mrs.  Carlyle  by  inheritance. 
Here,  entirely  removed  from  congenial  friends,  with  one 
maid-servajit  and  a  boy,  they  lived  for  six  years.  For  the 
wife  the  life  there  was  terribly  hard  and  lonely,  but  for 
Carlyle  it  was  free  from  the  annoyances  and  distractions  of 
the  town;  and  the  six  years  of  comparative  solitude  proved 
most  important  in  the  development  of  his  power.  Here 
he  wrote  the  various  articles  printed  in  the  first  three  vol- 
umes of  his  '^Miscellanies,"  the  best  of  which  is  gener- 
ally acknowledged  to  be  the  '^  Essay  on  Burns."     He  also 


INTRODUCTION  xv 

wrote  there  "  Sartor  Resartus,"  the  most  unique  and  orig- 
inal, and  now  one  of  the  most  popular  of  his  works.  He 
took  the  manuscript  of  this  to  London,  and  after  appeal- 
ing to  all  the  leading  publishers  in  vain,  succeeded  in  hav- 
ing it  appear  serially  in  "  Fraser's  Magazine."  It  was  too 
strange,  however,  to  be  appreciated,  and  was  received  at 
first  with  scorn  and  ridicule. 

It  had  become  evident  that,  if  Carlyle  was  to  succeed  as 
an  author,  he  must  be  near  the  large  libraries,  and  more  in 
touch  with  the  literary  life  of  the  day.  Accordingly,  in 
1834,  they  moved  to  London,  and  settled  in  the  little  house 
in  Cheyne  Row,  Chelsea,  which  was  ever  afterward  their 
home,  and  which  is  now  visited  every  year  by  thousands 
of  Carlyle 's  admirers.  The  first  years  in  London  were  a 
continuation  of  the  struggle  for  money  and  recognition. 
But  in  1837  success  came.  In  that  year  Carlyle  delivered 
a  course  of  six  lectures  on  German  Literature,  which  pro- 
cured him  great  applause  and  considerable  money.  The 
same  year  was  marked  by  the  publication  of  the  first  vol- 
ume of  the  'Trench  Revolution."  This  won  immediate 
recognition,  and  from  that  time  Carlyle's  position  as  an 
author  was  assured.  The  pecuniary  independence  of  the 
Carlyles  was  further  established  by  the  death,  in  1842,  of 
Mrs.  Carlyle's  mother,  and  the  inheritance  of  her  small 
property.  This,  and  the  success  of  Carlyle's  work,  put  an 
end  to  the  long  struggle  with  narrow  means. 

In  1845  he  published  his  "  Life  and  Letters  of  Oliver 
Cromwell,"  a  book  which  sold  more  rapidly  than  any  of 
his  previous  works,  which  caused  him  to  be  regarded  as  a 
most  original  historian,  and  which  very  materially  modified 
the  generally  accepted  opinions  in  regard  to  the  great  Pro- 
tector. In  1858  appeared  the  first  two  volumes  of  his  last 
great  work,  the  ''History  of  Frederick  II.,  commonly 
called  The  Great,"  which  was  completed  seven  years  later. 
This  is  by  many  regarded  as  his  master  work. 


XYi  INTRODUCTION 

In  1865  he  was  elected  Lord  Rector  by  the  students  of 
Edinburgh  University.  This  office  is  unlike  anything  that 
we  have  in  this  country,  and  is  purely  honorary,  the  only 
duty  in  connection  with  it  being  the  delivery  of  an  ''  In- 
stallation address."  His  address  on  the  '^  Reading  of 
Books,"  was  ''a  perfect  triumph,"  and  may  fairly  be  said 
to  mark  the  culmination  of  his  career. 

In  the  midst  of  this  success  in  the  north  came  the  news 
of  Mrs.  Carlyle's  sudden  death  in  London.  It  was  a  ter- 
rible blow  to  the  old  man,  already  weakened  by  age,  for, 
in  spite  of  his  complaining  and  his  absorption  in  his  work, 
he  was  devotedly  attached  to  his  wife,  and  wonderfully  de- 
pendent on  her.  Not  until  slie  had  gone  from  him  did  he 
realize  how  much  unhappiness  and  suffering  he  had  caused 
her.  "  Oh!  "  he  cried,  '^  if  I  could  but  see  her  once  more, 
were  it  but  for  five  minutes,  to  let  her  know  that  I  always 
loved  her  through  all  that!  She  never  did  know  it, 
never!  " 

During  the  remaining  fifteen  years  of  his  life,  he  wrote 
and  published  nothing  of  importance.  He  died  at  Chel- 
sea, February  5,  1881.  The  honor  of  burial  in  Westmin- 
ster Abbey  was  offered,  but  Carlyle  had  foreseen  the  possi- 
bility of  this,  and  had  decided  before  his  death  that  it 
should  not  be.  In  accordance  with  his  wish  he  was  buried 
near  his  father  and  mother  in  the  old  kirkyard  at  Eccle- 
fechan. 

Carlyle  appointed  his  intimate  friend,  James  Anthony 
Froude,  the  historian,  his  literary  executor,  giving  him 
full  discretion  as  to  the  making  public  of  his  and  his  wife's 
letters,  journals,  and  private  papers.  Froude  has  been 
bitterly  condemned  for  the  freedom  and  fulness  with  which 
he  has  revealed  the  inmost  details  of  the  life  at  Craigen- 
puttock  and  at  Chelsea.  Probably  it  would  have  been  wiser, 
certainly  it  would  have  shown  a  tenderer  regard  for  the 
memory  of  his  friend,  if  he  had  withheld  much  that  he 


INTRODUCTION  XVU 

has  given  to  the  public.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  he  has 
given  us  most  ample  material  for  the  study  of  the  character 
of  one  of  the  most  remarkable  men  of  recent  times. 

Oarlyle  was  a  strange  man,  with  much  in  him  that  we 
are  forced  to  condemn,  but  a  man  whom,  with  all  his 
faults,  we  cannot  help  admiring.  For  forty  years  his  life 
was  one  unceasing  struggle  against  adverse  circumstances. 
The  persistent  application  to  work  and  the  privations  of 
his  early  years  brought  on  the  dyspepsia  which  tormented 
him  until  his  death,  and  which  undoubtedly  was  the  cause  of 
much  of  his  irritability  and  complaining.  Harder  still  to 
bear  was  the  lack  of  recognition  and  of  appreciation  of  his 
work.  Had  he  been  willing  to  cater  to  others'  ideas,  had 
he  been  willing  to  shape  his  writing  to  conform  to  popular 
opinion,  he  undoubtedly  could,  with  his  ability,  have 
greatly  eased  the  pecuniary  strain,  and  earlier  have  won 
popular  applause.  But  in  spite  of  the  obstacles,  and  in 
the  face  of  the  temptations,  he  never  wavered  in  his  aim, 
but  held  true  to  his  course  in  spite  of  all.  He  had  a  mis- 
sion in  life,  a  message  to  deliver,  and  this  mission  he  pro- 
posed to  fulfil,  this  message  to  proclaim,  come  what  might. 

Perhaps  the  most  striking  characteristic  of  the  man  was 
his  love  of  Truth,  and  his  hatred  of  insincerity  and  sham. 
Truth  was  to  him  a  passion.  In  his  writing  he  spared 
neither  toil  nor  pains  to  secure  the  facts.  His  mission  was 
to  proclaim  Truth,  and  nothing  must  stand  in  the  way  of 
that.  Everything  savoring  of  hypocrisy  he  hated  with 
the  veriest  hatred,  and  the  exposure  of  a  sham  roused  all 
the  powers  of  his  nature.  Whatever  he  felt,  he  felt  deeply, 
and  to  whatever  he  undertook  he  gave  all  his  energy. 

It  is  this  sincerity,  this  intensity,  this  rugged  strength, 
keeping  on  in  spite  of  obstacles,  that  appeals  to  us.  But 
with  this  strength  there  was  a  compensating  inconsistency 
and  weakness.  Manful  in  enduring  great  ills,  he  was 
chafed  and  irritated  by  the  little  trials  of  life.      The  man 


xviii  INTRODUCTION 

who  could  make  his  first  thought  the  sparing  of  the  feel- 
ings of  a  friend  through  whose  carelessness  the  manuscript 
of  the  entire  first  volume  of  the  "  French  Kevolution  "  had 
been  destroyed,  and  who  could,  with  scarcely  a  murmur, 
take  up  the  enormous  work  of  rewriting  it  from  the  be- 
ginning, flew  into  a  rage  if  his  dinner  were  not  properly 
cooked,  and  was  inconsolable  if  a  neighboring  cock  disturbed 
his  night's  rest.  He  did  not  always  practise  what  he 
preached.  He  urged  the  duty  of  reticence,  and  yet  no 
man  was  more  outspoken  about  his  personal  troubles  than 
he.  It  has  been  wittily  said  that  he  ^^  preached  the  doc- 
trine of  Silence  in  thirty  volumes."  His  sense  of  propor- 
tion was  lacking.  He  fulminated  as  strongly  against  a 
small  thing  as  against  a  great,  and  he  Avas  prone  to  exag- 
gerate whatever  was  before  him  at  the  time.  An  earnest 
seeker  after  truth,  when  once  he  had  formed  an  idea,  he 
saw  no  other  side  to  the  question. 

In  his  personality,  too,  there  was  the  same  inconsistency. 
His  appearance  was  striking  and  impressive,  but  at  the  same 
time  uncouth.  He  had  a  most  marvellous  command  of 
language,  but  he  retained  to  the  last  his  broad  Annandale 
accent.  His  conversational  powers  were  great,  but  his  con- 
versation was  mostly  monologue.  He  had  great  charm 
and  power  of  fascination,  but  his  lack  of  tact  often  caused 
him  to  repel. 

Such  was  Carlyle,  a  remarkable  combination  of  strength 
and  weakness,  but  with  the  strength  predominating;  a  man 
to  admire,  rather  than  to  love;  a  man  of  many  faults  and 
inconsistencies;  whose  judgment  was  not  always  sound; 
but  of  such  sterling  integrity,  of  such  absolute  honesty, 
so  noble  in  purpose,  so  lofty  in  aim,  and  so  persistent  in 
his  devotion  to  that  aim,  as  to  compel  our  respect,  and  even 
our  reverence. 


INTRODUCTION  xix 


11.  Carlyle's  Writings  and  Influence. 

Carlyle  is  iiofc  an  author  who  appeals  to  all  minds.  His 
individuality  is  too  pronounced  for  that.  While  to  some  he 
is  a  source  of  genuine  delight  and  inspiration,  others  are 
unable  to  look  beyond  his  eccentricities  and  contradictions. 
Nor  is  it  necessarily  a  mark  of  defective  literary  taste  that 
one  is  unable  to  enjoy  him.  Everyone,  however,  whether 
he  enjoys  Carlyle  or  not,  can  appreciate  the  rugged  strength 
and  honest  vigor  of  the  man,  and  every  one  who  calls 
himself  well-read  should  have  some  knowledge  at  first-hand 
of  a  writer  who  has  exerted  so  profound  an  influence  on 
the  thought  of  the  present  day,  and  who  has  helped  and 
inspired  so  many  thinking  men  and  women.  If  a  young 
student  desires  to  become  acquainted  with  Carlyle,  he  can 
hardly  do  better  than  to  begin  with  the  "  Essay  on  Burns. " 
This  might  be  followed  by  one  or  two  of  the  other  essays 
— say  those  on  '*  History,"  and  '^  Scott,"  or  on  Boswell's 
"  Life  of  Johnson."  Having  now  some  acquaintance  with 
his  earlier  and  simpler  style,  and  some  understanding  of 
his  purpose  and  method  of  working,  the  student  should  be 
able  to  read  '*  Heroes  and  Hero  Worship  "  with  enjoyment 
and  appreciation.  Next  would  come  his  two  great  works 
"  Sartor  Resartus  "  and  the  "  French  Revolution. "  Some 
students  would  enjoy  these  latter  works,  even  before  they 
had  read  the  others,  but  it  is  an  unquestioned  fact  that 
many  who  find  "  Sartor  Resartus"  very  hard  reading,  and 
comparatively  unintelligible,  would  find  the  same  book  ex- 
tremely enjoyable,  if  before  attempting  it  they  had  some 
acquaintance  with  Carlyle's  style  and  way  of  thinking. 
That  labor  is  not  wasted  that  leads  one  to  the  more  com- 
plete enjoyment  and  appreciation  of  a  great  writer. 

Carlyle's  writings  may,  perhaps,  roughly  be  divided  into 
three  classes — critical,  historical,  and  ethical.     This  divi- 


XX  INTRODUCTIOlSr 

sion  is  not  strictly  logical^  and  serious  exception  might  be 
taken  to  the  term  ''  ethical  " — all  of  his  writings  were  eth- 
ical— but  the  arrangement  is  convenient  and  will  answer 
our  purpose. 

Carlyle's  critical  writings  consist  mainly  of  the  articles 
written  for  the  Reviews  in  his  early  years^  and  later  reprinted 
in  the  first  three  volumes  of  his  ''  Miscellanies."  By  gen- 
eral consent  that  on  Burns  is  reckoned  as  the  best  of  these. 
Others  that  are  notable  are  those  on  Scott,  Johnson,  Vol- 
taire, Diderot,  Schiller,  and  that  on  German  literature. 
These  essays  began  a  reaction  from  the  ^^  slashing"  style 
of  criticism  then  fashionable  in  Great  Britain.  Carlyle's 
aim  was  not  to  write  a  brilliant  article,  not  to  extol  one 
man  to  the  skies  and  to  crush  another  to  the  earth,  not 
simply  to  estimate,  to  praise  or  to  blame,  but  to  '' inter- 
pret "  the  author  to  his  readers,  and  to  lead  them  to  a 
true  appreciation  of  his  spirit  and  his  worth.  His  great 
power  in  this  line  lay  in  his  ability  to  go  right  to  the  heart 
of  a  subject,  and  to  distinguish  those  qualities  that  give  last- 
ing worth  to  a  work  from  those  that  win  merely  temporary 
applause  through  conformity  to  the  fashion  of  the  time. 
The  weakness  of  his  critical  work  lay  in  his  placing  too 
great  stress  on  the  moral  quality  of  a  man's  work,  and  not 
appreciating  fully  its  aesthetic  and  artistic  value.  This  is 
well  illustrated  in  the  "  Essay  on  Burns,"  by  his  judgment 
of  Keats  (paragraph  21). 

Carlyle's  fame  as  a  writer  of  history  rests  on  three 
works  that  have  already  been  mentioned,  the  "  History 
of  the  French  Revolution,"  ''Life  and  Letters  of  Oliver 
Cromwell,"  and  the  "  History  of  Frederick  II.,  com- 
monly called  The  Great."  The  "  French  Revolution  "  is 
generally  regarded  as  his  greatest  work,  although  many 
claim  this  distinction  for  "Sartor  Resartus  ;  "  and  there 
are  those  who  rank  '*  Frederick  the  Great"  above  either. 
Carlyle's  histories  are  unlike  any  others  that  have  ever 


INTRODUCTION  xxi 

been  written.  He  makes  no  attempt  to  set  before  us  all  the 
facts  in  the  case — he  assumes  that  we  already  know  them. 
His  purpose  is  to  make  us  see  those  facts  in  the  right  light, 
to  teach  us  the  lessons  that  he  believes  should  be  drawn 
from  them.  But  he  does  not  do  this  by  setting  down  the 
moral  in  didactic  form.  He  does  it  by  drawing  a  series 
of  vivid  word-pictures  of  men  and  events  that  make  them 
live  and  happen  before  our  very  eyes.  It  is  here  that  Car- 
lyle's  marvellous  descriptive  power  and  vivid  style  find 
their  fullest  scope.  As  Lowell  says,  "  The  figures  of  most 
historians  seem  like  dolls  stuffed  with  bran,  whose  whole 
substance  runs  through  any  hole  that  criticism  may  tear 
in  them;  but  Carlyle's  are  so  real  that  if  you  prick  them 
they  bleed."  Carlyle's  histories  are  neither  simple  narra- 
tive nor  comment.  They  consist  of  a  series  of  vivid  pic- 
tures of  men  and  events,  so  drawn  as  to  set  before  us,  in 
unmistakable  terms,  what  he  considers  to  be  the  true  view 
of  them,  and  the  lessons  that  they  teach. 

By  Carlyle's  "  ethical  "  works  are  meant  those  concerned 
primarily  not  with  literature  or  history,  but  with  conduct, 
political,  social,  and  personal.  As  has  been  said,  the  term 
is  not  exact,  but  it  serves  the  purpose.  His  principal 
works  dealing  with  political  questions  were  "  Chartism," 
''Past  and  Present,"  and  '^  Latter  Day  Pamphlets." 
He  makes  no  attempt  to  deal  with  what  is  sometimes  called 
"  practical  politics."  His  aim  was  to  point  out  the  evils 
in  the  existing  systems,  and  to  utter  a  warning  against  the 
dangers  of  the  ultra-democratic  tendency  of  the  age.  In 
"  Heroes  and  Hero  Worship  "  he  formulated  his  positive 
belief  in  the  efficacy  of  great  men  in  all  the  activities  of 
life — that  the  world  has  always  shaped  its  ideals  and  its  con- 
duct according  to  its  heroes,  and  that  the  hope  of  the 
future  is  not  in  the  power  of  the  masses,  but  in  the  leader- 
ship of  the  best  men.  '^  Sartor  Eesartus  "  (literally,  the 
tailor  re-tailored)  is  a  unique  and  curious  presentation  of 


xxii  INTRODUCTION 

his  philosophy — ''his  passionate  commentary  on  a  world 
in  which  he  found  it  so  hard  to  live  in  his  own  way^  and 
which  seemed  to  him  so  full  of  matter  for  scornful  laugh- 
ter and  pity  and  indignation."  It  is  ostensibly  a  "  philos- 
ophy of  clothes/'  in  which  the  time-worn  customs  and 
institutions  of  society  are  treated  as  old  garments,  only  fit 
to  be  cast  off.  It  is  perhaps  the  most  characteristic  of  his 
works,  as  well  as  the  most  popular. 

The  attempt  is  sometimes  made  to  analyze  Carlyle's  phi- 
losophy and  to  classify  his  opinions.  Such  an  attempt, 
however,  can  hardly  hope  to  be  successful,  for  he  had  no 
' '  system  ' '  of  philosophy,  and  he  was  neither  a  logical  nor 
a  consistent  thinker.  Certain  dominant  ideas,  however, 
may  be  clearly  traced,  in  his  writings,  and  a  knowledge  of 
these  may  serve  to  throw  some  light  on  the  general  trend 
of  his  thought.  The  statement  of  them  given  here  follows 
very  closely  that  of  Professor  Minto. 

Duty  was  his  watchword.  It  is  this  that  he  was  empha- 
sizing, this  that  he  was  preaching  from  the  beginning  to 
the  end  of  his  life.  '' '  Do  the  Duty  which  lies  nearest  thee,' 
whicli  thou  knowest  to  be  a  duty."  If  it  were  possible  to 
sum  up  Carlyle's  philosophy  in  a  single  sentence,  it  would 
be  in  some  such  words  as  these:  "The  chief  end  of  life 
is  the  performance  of  duty."  The  first  specific  duty  that 
he  urges  is  the  duty  of  work.  "  Produce!  Produce!  "  he 
cries,  "  Were  it  but  the  pitifullest  infinitesimal  fraction  of 
a  Product,  produce  it  in  Cod's  name."  And  the  second 
great  duty  is  that  of  Obedience.  "  Obedience  is  our  uni- 
versal duty  and  destiny."  ''Obedience  is  the  primary 
duty  of  man."  The  third  great  duty  is  that  of  Sincerity, 
honesty  as  opposed  to  hypocrisy  and  sham.  "  Be  true  if 
you  would  be  believed."  "  We  reckon  this  to  be  a  great 
virtue;  to  be,  in  fact,  the  root  of  most  other  virtues." 

Just  what  he  believed  on  questions  of  theology  is  diffi- 
cult to  discover.      He  could  not  accept  the  orthodox  views 


INTRODUCTION  xxiii 

on  many  points,  and  would  not  subscribe  to  the  accepted 
creeds,  but  he  was  essentially  religious;  that  is,  belief  in 
a  Divine  Power,  and  in  his  personal  dependence  on  that 
Power  was  the  dominant  factor  of  his  inner  life.  His 
political  opinions  cannot  generally  be  accepted.  He  be- 
lieved that  the  times  were  all  wrong.  He  had  a  growing 
distrust  in  the  judgment  of  the  multitude.  Democracy 
was  dangerous  in  his  eyes.  In  his  later  writings  he  held 
'*that  with  every  extension  of  the  Franchise,  those  whom 
the  voters  elect  would  be  steadily  inferior  and  more 
unfit." 

Carlyle's  style  is  worthy  of  close  study.  A  detailed 
analysis  will  be  found  in  Minto's  "  Manual  of  English 
Prose  Literature,"  and  some  hints  as  to  the  study  of  it  will 
be  given  in  the  Suggestions  for  Teachers.  A  word  or  two, 
however,  may  fitly  be  said  here  as  to  its  excellence  and  its 
most  striking  characteristics.  Carlyle  may  fairly  be  ranked 
as  one  of  the  masters  of  English  style.  In  his  case  most 
emphatically  the  ''style  is  the  man,"  and  the  key  to  his 
style  is  found  in  knowledge  of  the  man.  His  command  of 
words  was  almost  unrivalled,  and  he  had  the  skill  of  a  great 
literary  artist  in  combining  words  into  telling  sentences. 
Almost  equally  marked  was  his  command  of  figures,  with 
Avhich  he  illustrates  and  illumines  all  his  writing.  Perhaps 
his  greatest  power  lies  in  the  line  of  description,  and  his 
pictures  of  men  and  of  scenery  are  among  his  most  strik- 
ing passages.  Next  to  this  would  probably  rank  his  power 
of  invective.  Thus  Carlyle  had  all  the  skill  and  power  of 
a  great  artist,  but  with  it  all  he  had  a  great  scorn  for  the 
conventional,  and  an  intensity  of  purpose  that  made  him 
careless,  even  wilfully  so,  of  grace  and  finish,  and  that  led 
him  to  sacrifice  everything  to  making  his  meaning  as  em- 
phatic and  as  forcible  as  it  was  in  his  power  to  do.  The 
result  is  a  style  that  is  by  no  means  a  model — eccentric, 
explosive,    incoherent,    but  .  living,    intense,   fiery,    with 


xxiv  INTRODUCTION 

a  strength  and  vividness  that  have  been  displayed  by  no 
other  man  who  has  yet  written  in  our  English  tongue. 

Oarlyle's  influence  on  modern  thought  has  been  profound. 
He  has  not  formulated  any  system  of  philosophy^  nor  is 
his  influence  due  to  his  having  set  forth  opinions  that  have 
commended  themselves  to  men  as  wise  and  sound.  His 
influence  has  been  that  of  the  preacher,  the  prophet.  He 
has  set  before  men  high  ideals,  he  has  wakened  them  to  a 
sense  of  the  realities  of  life,  he  has  roused  them  to  higher 
aspirations,  and  inspired  them  to  nobler  living.  He  has 
not  shown  men  what  to  do,  but  he  has  stirred  them  up  to 
act  for  themselves,  to  do  something.  Our  indebtedness  to 
Carlyle  is  not  so  much  for  what  he  has  achieved  himself, 
as  for  what  he  has  inspired  others  to  achieve. 

One  of  the  best  criticisms  of  Carlyle  is  that  of  James 
Russell  Lowell,  and  this  brief  discussion  of  his  writings 
and  influence  cannot  be  more  fitly  closed  than  with  a  short 
extract  from  his  incisive  essay: 

"  But,  with  all  deductions,  he  remains  the  profoundest  critic  and 
the  most  dramatic  imagination  of  modern  times.  Never  was  there  a 
more  striking  example  of  that  ingenium  perfervid^im  long  ago  said  to 
be  characteristic  of  his  countrymen.  He  is  one  of  the  natures,  rare 
in  these  latter  centuries,  capable  of  rising  to  a  white  heat  ;  but  once 
fairly  kindled,  he  is  like  a  three-decker  on  fire,  and  his  shotted  guns 
go  off,  as  the  glow  reaches  them,  alike  dangerous  to  friend  or  foe. 
Though  he  seems  more  and  more  to  confound  material  with  moral 
success,  yet  there  is  always  something  wholesome  in  his  unswerving 
loyalty  to  reality,  as  he  understands  it.  History,  in  the  true  sense, 
he  does  not  and  cannot  write,  for  he  looks  on  mankind  as  a  herd 
without  volition,  and  without  moral  force  ;  but  such  vivid  pictures 
of  events,  such  living  conceptions  of  character,  we  find  nowhere  else 
in  prose.     .     .     . 

**  Though  not  the  safest  of  guides  in  politics  or  practical  philoso- 
phy, his  value  as  rai  inspirer  and  awakener  cannot  be  overestimated. 
It  is  a  power  which  belongs  only  to  the  highest  order  of  minds,  for 
it  is  none  but  a  divine  fire  that  can  so  kindle  and  irradiate.  The 
debt  due  him  from  those  who  listened  to  the  teachings  of  his  prime 


INTRODUCTION  xxv 

for  revealing  to  them  what  sublime  reserves  of  power  even  the  hum- 
blest may  find  in  manliness,  sincerity,  and  self-reliance,  can  be  paid 
with  nothing  short  of  reverential  gratitude.  As  a  purifier  of  the 
sources  whence  our  intellectual  inspiration  is  drawn,  his  influence 
has  been  second  only  to  that  of  Wordsworth,  if  even  to  his.  Indeed 
he  has  been  in  no  fanciful  sense  the  continuator  of  Wordsworth's 
moral  teaching." 

III.  The  Essay  on^  Bur:n^s. 

The  ''  Essay  on  Burns  "  was  written  at  Craigenputtock 
in  the  year  1828,  when  Carlyle  was  thirty-three  years  old. 
He  had  just  succeeded  in  gaining  admittance  to  the  pages 
of  the  "  Edinburgh  Eeview,"  of  which  Francis  Jeffrey,  the 
famous  critic,  was  at  that  time  the  editor,  and  one  of  his 
essays — that  on  the  German  poet  Eichter — had  already 
been  accepted  and  published.  Carlyle  was  a  great  admirer 
and  a  great  student  of  the  literature  of  Germany,  and  up 
to  this  time  his  work  had  consisted  mainly  of  translations 
from  that  language,  or  of  criticism  of  German  authors. 
This  was  his  first  public  attempt  to  deal  with  the  litera- 
ture of  his  own  land. 

Jeffrey  recognized  the  originality  and  value  of  the  essay, 
but  rightly  considered  it  to  be  rambling  and  diffuse.  He 
thought  that  it  should  be  cut  down  at  least  one  half,  and 
that  the  language  of  the  remainder  should  be  polished  and 
altered.  When  Carlyle  received  the  proof-sheets,  he 
found,  as  he  said,  "  t\\Q  first  part  cut  all  into  shreds — the 
body  of  a  quadruped  with  the  head  of  a  bird,  a  man 
shortened  by  cutting  out  his  thighs  and  fixing  the  knee- 
caps on  his  hips."  He  refused  to  let  it  appear  ''  in  such  a 
horrid  shape,"  and,  replacing  the  most  important  pas- 
sages, sent  the  sheets  back  with  a  message  that  the  article 
might  be  cancelled  but  not  mutilated.  And  the  editor 
allowed  him  to  have  his  own  way. 

Jeffrey  was  unquestionably  right.     The  essay  is  rambling 


XX  vi  INTRODUCTION 

and  diffuse,  but  at  the  same  time  it  contains  elements  of 
tiie  highest  power.  One  of  the  best  criticisms  of  the  essay 
is  that  of  Professor  Henry  Morley,  who  says: 

"  These  essays  on  Burns  and  Scott  are  two  sermons  on  Ufe,  often 
rambling,  always  full  of  repetition,  saying,  in  Carlyle's  way,  what 
another  man  of  equal  genius  and  power  could  have  said  as  vigor- 
ously, but  more  clearly  and  simply,  therefore  better,  in  half  the 
number  of  words.  But  that  other  man  of  equal  genius  and  power, 
wherever  he  may  be,  has  not  written  an  essay  upon  Burns.  We 
must  take  Carlyle  as  he  is,  learn  to  distinguish,  as  Jeffrey  did,  be- 
tween differences  that  are  radical  and  those  which  are  only  formal. 
Carlyle's  style  was  his  own  ;  in  these  essays,  perhaps,  only  incipient 
Carlylese  ;  his  genius  and  his  earnest  right-minded  struggle  with  the 
problems  of  the  life  of  man  were  his  own  also.  The  readers  of  these 
essays  should  draw  near  to  their  writer,  mind  to  mind,  soul  to  soul, 
live  with  him  his  best  life  while  they  read  the  rhetoric  that,  always 
right-minded  and  often  joined  to  strains  of  highest  eloquence,  some- 
times confuses  alike  writer  and  reader.  I  doubt  very  much  whether, 
after  having  written  his  essay  on  Burns,  Carlyle  clearly  knew 
whether  he  had  or  had  not  meant  to  say  that  Burns  should  have 
chosen  between  Ellisland  and  Mount  Parnassus.  Sometimes  we 
seem  to  be  clearly  told  that  he  should  have  given  himself  up  to  the 
Muses  and  made  poetry  his  only  calling.  At  other  times  we  are 
told  that  he  could  not  be  other  than  he  was.  Carlyle,  on  the  whole, 
preaches  with  deep  earnestness  the  truth  as  it  is  in  man.  A  hint  in 
the  facts  of  any  life  may  set  him  off  on  a  new  burst  of  homily,  and 
though  all  the  winds  blow  health,  they  do  not  all  blow  in  the  same 
direction." 

Professor  Morley  is  right.  It  is  as  a  sermon  on  life 
rather  than  as  a  criticism  of  literature  that  the  essay  must 
be  judged.  And  the  text  was  one  that  appealed  most 
strongly  to  Carlyle.  There  was  much  similarity  of  circum- 
stances in  the  early  lives  of  Burns  and  Carlyle,  born  as 
both  were  of  Immble  parents  iu  the  same  part  of  Scotland, 
with  the  same  ambition  to  excel  in  literature,  and  the  same 
obstacles  to  contend  against.  There  w^as  much  in  Burns's 
character,  too,  to  call  out  Carlyle's  sympathy  and  admira- 


INTRODUCTION  xxvii 

tion^  and,  as  a  Scotchman,  he  could  appreciate  to  the  full 
the  national  flavor  in  Burns's  verse.  All  of  these  feelings 
must  have  come  to  him  with  peculiar  force  at  the  lonely 
farm  of  Craigenputtock,  and  the  result  is  a  sermon  from 
the  heart,  rather  than  a  critical  analysis. 

But  if  the  essay  is  primarily  a  sermon,  it  is  none  the 
less  a  criticism  of  great  value.  Indeed,  Carlyle's  verdict 
on  Burns  has  come  to  be  generally  accepted  as  the  true 
one,  and,  regarded  simply  as  a  piece  of  criticism,  the 
essay  is  ranked  as  a  masterpiece.  Goethe  valued  it  so 
highly  that  he  translated  it  into  German,  and  included  it 
in  his  collected  works;  and  as  Carlyle  has  come  to  be  better 
understood  and  appreciated,  the  "  Essay  on  Burns,"  with  all 
its  faults,  has  steadily  grown  in  favor.  It  may  not  be  one 
of  Carlyle's  greatest  works,  but  it  is  a  work  of  lasting 
worth;  it  may  not  be  one  of  his  most  characteristic  works, 
but  it  contains  all  of  the  elements  of  his  power.  It  is  a 
work  that  will  in  itself  repay  the  most  careful  study,  and 
no  better  could  be  chosen  to  lead  one  to  an  understanding 
and  appreciation  of  the  writings  of  Thomas  Oarlyle. 

IV.  Egbert  Burns. 

Any  attempt  at  an  estimate  of  Burns's  character  or  writ- 
ings would  be  manifestly  out  of  place  in  an  introduction 
to  Carlyle's  essay.  His  judgment  of  the  man  and  his  works 
is  so  preeminently  sound,  and  he  has  treated  the  subject 
with  so  much  fulness,  that  any  further  words  are  unnec- 
essary. As  in  his  histories,  however,  he  makes  no  attempt 
to  set  forth  the  facts,  but,  assuming  a  knowledge  of  them 
on  the  part  of  his  readers,  proceeds  directly  to  make  his 
comments  and  to  draw  his  lessons.  For  this  reason  a  sim- 
ple statement  of  the  important  facts  in  Burns's  life  is  nec- 
essary before  beginning  the  reading  or  study  of  the  essay. 

Robert  Burns  was  born  on  the  25th  of  January,  1759,  in 


xxviii  INTRODUCTION 

a  little  clay-built  cottage,  the  handiwork  of  his  father, 
about  two  miles  from  the  town  of  Ayr,  in  Ayrshire,  Scot- 
land. His  father,  William  Burness,  or  Burnes,  as  he  wrote 
it,  was  a  gardener,  and  acted  as  a  sort  of  overseer  for  a 
Mr.  Ferguson.  He  lived  on  a  small  leased  farm  of  seven 
acres,  which  he  cultivated  as  a  nursery  garden.  Robert 
appears  to  have  derived  his  physical  traits  from  his  mother, 
but  his  mental  characteristics  mainly  from  his  father.  He 
has  portrayed  his  father  with  loving  reverence  in  ''The 
Cotter's  Saturday  Night."  Eobert  was  compelled  to  take 
his  share  of  the  family  labor  at  a  very  early  age,  but  in 
spite  of  this  his  education  was  not  neglected,  and  when 
fiWQ  years  old  he  began  attending  school.  In  1766,  when 
Eobert  was  in  his  seventh  year,  his  father,  with  the  assist- 
ance of  Mr.  Ferguson^  leased  a  larger  farm.  Mount  Oli- 
phaat.  Here  William  Burnes  joined  with  four  of  his 
neighbors  and  engaged  a  young  teacher,  Murdoch  by  name, 
to  insjiruct  their  children.  Murdoch  has  left  an  interest- 
ing description  of  his  pupil,  although  he  seems  to  have 
regarded  Robert's  younger  brother  Gilbert  as  the  more 
promising  of  the  two.  Murdoch  appears  to  have  been  an 
unusually  sensible  and  thorough  teacher,  and  the  young 
poet  had  a  most  valuable  training,  especially  in  the  Eng- 
lish language.  His  schooldays,  however,  were  limited, 
and  the  most  valuable  part  of  his  education  was  undoubt- 
edly gained  through  his  reading  at  home,  where  he  seems 
to  have  had  access  to  a  remarkably  well-selected  collection 
of  books. 

After  a  hard  struggle  for  success,  his  father  was  com- 
pelled to  give  up  his  farm,  and  to  move  to  Lochlea,  in  the 
parish  of  Tarbolton.  Here  Burns  lived  from  his  eighteenth 
to  his  twenty-fifth  year.  Before  this  time  he  had  begun 
to  write  verses,  and  some  of  his  most  popular  songs  were 
written  at  Lochlea.  Love-making  and  poetry  seem  to 
have  gone  hand  in  hand  with  Burns;  indeed,  during  these 


INTROD  UCTION  xxix 

years  the  former  may  be  said  to  have  been  his  chief  occu- 
pation. When  he  was  twenty-three  a  particularly  serious 
love  affair^  which  turned  out  unsuccessfully,  led  him  to 
leave  home  for  a  time,  and  to  go  to  the  town  of  Irvine, 
with  the  intention  of  learning  flax-dressing.  As  Carlyle 
intimates,  this  visit  to  Irvine  was  a  most  momentous  one 
to  Burns,  for  here  he  fell  in  with  a  set  of  companions  who 
led  him  into  habits  of  dissipation,  and  shattered  the  rever- 
ence and  purity  of  mind  that  had  formerly  been  his.  It 
was  the  beginning  of  the  evil  that  so  marred  his  life.  The 
venture  ended  disastrously.  His  partner  cheated  him,  and 
his  flax-dressing  shop  burned  down  while  he  was  engaged 
in  a  New  Year's  carouse.  Discouraged  and  disheartened, 
he  returned  to  Lochlea  to  find  affairs  there  in  a  disastrous 
condition,  fche  farm  a  failure,  and  his  father  dying  of  con- 
sumption. 

Just  before  their  father's  death,  Gilbert  and  Kobert  had 
taken  a  lease  of  the  little  farm  of  Mossgiel,  a  few  miles 
from  Lochlea,  in  the  parish  of  Mauchline,  and  there,  early 
in  1784,  they  moved  with  their  widowed  mother  and  their 
younger  brothers  and  sisters.  Burns  at  that  time  was 
twenty-five  years  old,  and  he  lived  at  Mossgiel  for  four 
years.  "  Three  things  those  years  and  that  bare  moorland 
farm  witnessed — the  wreck  of  his  hopes  as  a  farmer,  the 
revelation  of  his  genius  as  a  poet,  and  the  frailty  of  his 
character  as  a  man."  These  four  years  form  the  most  im- 
portant period  of  Burns's  life.  During  his  residence  at 
Mossgiel,  his  poetical  power  reached  its  fullest  develop- 
ment. He  wrote  there  the  poems  which  first  established 
his  reputation,  and  it  is  upon  these  same  poems  that  his 
fame  now  chiefly  rests.  The  justice  of  this  claim  will  be 
seen  when  it  is  remembered  that  among  the  works  produced 
at  Mossgiel  were  ''Halloween,"  ''To  a  Mouse,"  "The 
Jolly  Beggars,"  "The  Cotter's  Saturday  Night,"  "  Ad- 
dress to  the  Deil,"  "The  Auld  Farmer's  Address  to  His 


XXX 


INTRODUCTION 


Auld  Mare,"  ^^The  Vision,"  '^  The  Twa  Dogs,"  and 
"  The  Mountain  Daisy. " 

Mossgiel  also  witnessed  Burns's  collision  with  the  clergy. 
The  church  in  Scotland  was  divided  into  two  parties, 
known  as  the  ^'Auld  Lights,"  and  the '' New  Lights." 
The  Auld  Lights  believed  in  the  government  of  the 
churches  and  the  selection  of  the  ministers  by  the  people 
themselves,  but  held  very  strict  views  of  theology  and  of 
church  discipline.  The  New  Lights  permitted  the  appoint- 
ment of  clergy  by  the  lairds,  and  held  much  freer  views  as 
to  doctrine  and  as  to. life.  Burns's  visit  to  Irvine  greatly 
weakened  the  reverence  for  the  church  and  for  holy  things 
that  had  been  instilled  in  him  by  his  father,  and  when  he 
was  publicly  rebuked  in  church  by  an  Auld  Light  clergy- 
man for  one  of  his  escapades,  he  bitterly  attacked  that 
party  in  verse.  His  first  attack  on  the  orthodox  ministers 
was  "  The  Twa  Herds,"  and  this  was  closely  followed  by 
'^  Holy  Willie's  Prayer,"  ^'The  Ordination,"  and  '^The 
Holy  Fair."  They  are  biting  satires,  displaying  great  wit 
and  keenness,  but  from  a  moral  standpoint  it  is  a  pity  that 
Burns  ever  wrote  them. 

In  1786  an  unfortunate  entanglement  made  his  position 
very  uncomfortable.  His  affairs  were  in  a  desperate  state, 
and  he  determined  to  emigrate  to  the  West  Indies.  Money 
was  lacking  to  pay  his  passage,  and,  by  the  advice  of  his 
friends,  he  published  a  volume  of  his  poems.  Six  hundred 
copies  were  printed,  three  hundred  and  fifty  of  which  were 
subscribed  for  in  advance.  From  this  venture  he  realized 
about  twenty  pounds,  and  immediately  engaged  his  passage 
for  Jamaica.  Before  the  time  for  sailing,  however,  the 
recognition  accorded  to  his  poems  led  him  to  change  his 
mind  and  to  remain  in  Scotland.  The  first  great  encour- 
agement that  came  to  him  was  a  letter  to  a  friend  from  Dr. 
Blacklock,  the  blind  poet  of  Edinburgh.  ''The  Doctor 
belonged,"  said  Burns,  ''to  a  set  of  critics  for  whose  ap- 


INTRODUCTION  xxxi 

plaiise  I  had  not  dared  to  hope."  Among  those  who 
sought  the  acquaintance  of  the  new  poet  were  Professor 
Dugald  Stewart  and  Mrs.  Dunlop^  the  latter  of  whom  be- 
came one  of  his  firmest  friends. 

In  November,  1786,  Burns  determined  to  go  to  Edin- 
burgh, to  secure,  if  possible,  the  publication  of  a  second 
edition  of  his  poems.  This  visit  to  Edinburgh  has  become 
famous.  That  city  was  then  the  centre  of  a  remarkable 
circle  of  literary  celebrities,  into  which  Burns  was  wel- 
comed with  the  greatest  enthusiasm.  Nor  was  the  wel- 
come entirely  on  account  of  his  poems,  for,  country-bred 
and  rustic  though  he  was,  he  charmed  and  delighted  all 
with  his  powers  of  conversation,  with  his  strength  of  judg- 
ment and  keenness  of  insight,  as  well  as  with  the  humor 
and  pathos  of  his  talk.  The  best  contemporary  descrip- 
tion of  his  appearance  at  that  time  is  given  by  an  intimate 
friend.  Professor  Walker : 

**  I  was  not  raucli  struck  with  his  first  appearance,  as  I  had  pre- 
viously heard  it  described.  His  person,  though  strong  and  well-knit, 
and  much  superior  to  what  might  be  expected  in  a  ploughman,  was 
still  rather  coarse  in  its  outline.  His  stature,  from  want  of  setting 
up,  appeared  to  be  only  of  the  middle  size,  but  was  rather  above  it. 
His  motions  were  firm  and  decided,  and  though  without  any  preten- 
sions to  grace,  were  at  the  same  time  so  free  from  clownish  restraint 
as  to  show  that  he  had  not  always  been  confined  to  the  society  of  his 
profession.  His  countenance  was  not  of  that  elegant  cast  which  is 
most  frequent  among  the  upper  ranks,  but  it  was  manly  and  intelli- 
gent, and  marked  by  a  thoughtful  gravity  which  shaded  at  times 
into  sternness.  In  his  large  dark  eye  the  most  striking  index  of  his 
genius  resided.  It  was  full  of  mind,  and  would  have  been  singu- 
larly expressive  under  the  management  of  one  who  could  employ  it 
with  more  art  for  the  purpose  of  expression. 

"  He  was  plainly  but  properly  dressed,  in  a  style  midway  between 
the  holiday  costume  of  a  farmer  and  that  of  the  company  with  which 
he  now  associated.  His  black  hair,  without  powder,  at  a  time  when 
it  was  very  generally  worn,  was  tied  behind,  and  spread  upon  his 
forehead.      Upon  the  whole,   from  his  person,   physiognomy,   and 


xxxii  INTROD  UCTION 

dress,  had  I  met  him  near  a  seaport,  and  been  required  to  guess  his 
condition,  I  should  have  probably  conjectured  him  to  be  the  master 
of  a  merchant  vessel  of  the  most  respectable  class. 

"  In  no  part  of  his  manner  was  there  the  slightest  degree  of  affec- 
tation, nor  could  a  stranger  have  suspected,  from  anything  in  his 
behaviour  or  conversation,  that  he  had  been  for  some  months  the 
favourite  of  all  the  fashionable  circles  of  a  metropolis. 

'*  In  conversation  he  was  powerful.  His  conceptions  and  expres- 
sion were  of  corresponding  vigour,  and  on  all  subjects  were  as  remote 
as  possible  from  commonplace.  Though  somewhat  authoritative,  it 
was  in  a  way  which  gave  little  offence,  and  was  readily  imputed  to 
his  inexperience  in  those  modes  of  smoothing  dissent  and  softening 
assertion  which  are  important  characteristics  of  polished  manners." 

One  of  the  greatest  proofs  of  his  strength  of  character 
is  the  fact  that  his  head  was  not  completely  turned  by  the 
flattery  and  adulation  of  that  first  winter  in  Edinburgh. 
Burns's  social  life  in  that  city  was  not  confined  entirely 
to  literary  circles,  and  he  was  a  frequent  visitor  at  the 
taverns,  where  his  ready  wit  and  jovial  nature  made  him 
as  great  a  favorite  as  in  the  more  select  drawing-rooms.  In 
April,  1787,  the  second  edition  of  his  poems  appeared,  and 
its  success  brought  him  a  period  of  comparative  prosper- 
ity. During  the  summer  and  autumn  he  made  several 
short  tours  through  Scotland,  and  the  winter  was  again 
spent  in  Edinburgh.  The  second  winter,  however,  was 
different  from  the  first.  The  novelty  had  worn  off,  and, 
moreover,  his  ways  and  doings  were  better  known,  so  that 
he  was  not  received  with  the  same  cordiality  as  at  first. 

In  the  spring  of  1788  he  left  Edinburgh  for  good,  re- 
turned to  Ayrshire,  married  Jean  iVrmour,  one  of  his  old 
flames,  and  settled  on  the  farm  of  Ellisland,  about  six 
miles  from  Dumfries. 

His  farming  was  not  very  successful,  and  Burns  was  rest- 
less and  discontented  during  his  life  at  Ellisland.  Einding 
the  farm  an  inadequate  support,  he  secured  an  appoint- 
ment as  '\gauger,"   a  sort  of  under-officer  in  the  Excise 


INTRODUCTION  xxxiii 

department,  which  is  charged  witli  the  collection  of  the 
tax  on  liquors  and  certain  other  articles,  and  the  enforce- 
ment of  the  laws  relative  to  their  sale.  This  office  paid  him 
fifty  pounds  a  year,  which  was  a  great  help,  and  also  took 
him  about  the  country  a  great  deal,  which  trips,  on  his  old 
mare,  Jenny  Geddes,  were  very  pleasant  to  him.  If  pleas- 
ant, they  were  also  unfortunate,  for  they  exposed  him  to 
constant  temptations,  which  he  did  not  resist.  During  this 
period  his  occupation  naturally  made  his  writing  fragmen- 
tary, but  he  was  constantly  turning  out  poems,  some  of 
them  among  his  best — ^^To  Mary  in  Heaven,"  '^Auld 
Lang  Syne,"  ^^John  Anderson,  my  Jo,  John,"  ^^The 
Banks  o*'  Doon,"  and  '^Tam  o'  Shanter." 

In  1791,  Burns  finally  gave  up  his  farm  and  moved  to 
the  town  of  Dumfries.  The  temptations  of  the  town 
were  too  much  for  him,  and  from  that  time  his  moral 
course  was  steadily  downward.  Soon  after  moving  to 
Dumfries  he  began  to  dabble  in  politics,  and  this  before 
long  landed  him  in  trouble.  It  was  the  time  of  the  French 
Revolution,  a  time  of  revolt  against  settled  authority. 
The  echoes  of  the  struggle  in  France  were  heard  through- 
out the  civilized  world,  and  men  everywhere  were  discuss- 
ing liberty  and  equality.  In  the  taverns  and  in  the  village 
clubs  Burns  was  one  of  the  most  fiery  speakers  against 
autocratic  governments.  About  that  time  a  smuggling 
brig  was  captured  in  the  Solway  by  the  Excisemen,  Burns 
being  the  first  to  board  her.  She  was  sold  at  auction  the 
next  day  with  all  her  arms  and  stores,  and  Burns  purchased 
four  of  her  guns.  These  he  sent  to  the  French  Legislative 
Assembly  with  a  letter  requesting  their  acceptance  as  a 
mark  of  his  sympathy.  For  a  government  officer  thus 
openly  to  express  his  sympathy  with  a  movement  frowned 
upon  by  the  government  he  served,  was,  to  say  the  least, 
extremely  imprudent.  This  was  followed  by  speeches 
attacking  the  ministry  then  in  power,  and  denouncing  their 


xxxiv  INTRODUCTION 

policy.  It  is  small  wonder  that  he  received  a  severe  rebuke 
from  the  Excise  Boards  and  narrowly  escaped  losiug  his 
place  altogether. 

Burns's  conduct,  political  and  social,  kept  him  in  trouble 
in  Dumfries.  There  are  varying  opinions  as  to  the  depths 
to  which  he  sank,  but  there  is  no  doubt  that  he  was  guilty 
of  great  excesses,  and  that,  in  all  probability,  his  death 
was  hastened  by  his  manner  of  life.  In  his  trouble  his  one 
great  consolation  was  his  verse,  and  he  continued  to  pour 
out  song  after  song,  although  few  that  could  rank  with 
his  earlier  efforts.  In  1794  he  found  his  health  declining, 
and  from  that  time  he  slowly  failed  in  strength.  Nearly 
two  years  later,  while  returning  from  a  carouse,  he  became 
thoroughly  chilled,  and  as  a  result  was  attacked  with  rheu- 
matic fever.  From  this  he  never  fully  rallied.  In  the 
early  summer  he  went  to  a  little  sea-coast  place  called  Brow, 
to  try  the  effects  of  sea-bathing.  It  was  useless,  and  after 
two  weeks  he  returned  home.  A  few  days  later,  on  the 
21st  of  July,  1796,  he  died,  in  the  thirty-eighth  year  of 
his  age. 

The  story  of  Burns's  life  is  a  glorious  and  a  sad  one: 
glorious  in  its  triumph  over  opposing  circumstances,  and  in 
its  achievements;  sad  in  its  neglected  opportunities  and  in 
its  wasted  powers.  In  the  century  that  has  passed  since 
his  death,  the  world  has  had  time  to  form  its  judgment 
both  as  to  his  life  and  as  to  his  work.  Carlyle's  verdict, 
given  seventy  years  ago,  has  been  accepted  as  substan- 
tially just  and  fair.  To  judge  of  the  correctness  of  that 
verdict  we  need  simply  the  bare  facts  of  his  life  and  the 
words  of  his  songs.  One  thing  is  certain :  whatever  may 
be  the  truth  as  to  the  right  and  wrong  in  his  life,  he  was  a 
true  poet,  and  his  songs  have  found  their  way  to  the  hearts 
of  men  wherever  the  English  tongue  is  spoken. 


SUGGESTIONS  FOR  TEACHERS 

No  exact  method  of  teaching  any  subject  can  wisely  be 
prescribed.  The  method  must  vary  with  the  individual 
teacher,  and  there  may  be  as  many  methods  as  there  are 
teachers.  Particularly  is  this  true  of  the  teaching  of  Eng- 
lish, where,  if  anywhere,  spontaneity  and  freedom  are 
essential.  Two  things  are  necessary — a  clear  knowledge  of 
the  end  to  be  attained,  and  enthusiasm;  for  without  a 
definite  aim  the  work  will  be  vague  and  formless,  while 
without  enthusiasm  it  will  be  dry  and  formal. 

Although  no  detailed  method  of  teaching  may  wisely  be 
laid  down,  suggestions  may  be  extremely  valuable.  Sucli 
suggestions  are  particularly  desirable  at  the  present  time 
in  connection  with  the  teaching  of  English.  The  study  of 
English  classics  is  no  new  thing,  but  the  systematic  study 
of  such  works  in  the  secondary  schools  in  accordance  with 
the  prescription  of  the  conference  on  Uniform  Entrance 
Kequirements  in  English  is  new,  and  there  is  as  yet  no 
general  agreement  as  to  the  methods  that  are  likely  to  pro- 
duce the  best  results  in  such  study.  For  this  reason, 
somewhat  detailed  directions  for  the  study  of  Oarlyle's 
'^  Essay  on  Burns  "  are  given,  without  any  idea,  however, 
that  these  directions  can,  with  advantage,  be  followed  in 
detail  by  any  teacher.  If  they  serve  to  suggest  a  line  of 
work,  and  to  indicate,  in  a  general  way,  a  method  of  teach- 
ing that  may  be  modified  to  suit  his  needs  by  the  individual 
teacher,  they  will  have  fully  accomplished  the  purpose  of 
the  editor. 

One  point  should  be  settled  clearly  in  advance — the  end 


xxxvi  SUGGESTIONS  FOR   TEACHERS 

to  be  attained.  Speaking  broadly,  the  purpose  of  all  study 
of  English  is  twofold,  the  appreciation  of  literature,  and 
the  development  of  power  of  expression.  In  the  study  of 
any  classic,  how^ever,  the  first  aim  is  the  one  that  must  be 
prominently  before  the  mind.  The  development  of  ability 
to  express  follows  indirectly.  Style  is  not  an  accomplish- 
ment, something  that  may  be  superimposed  upon  one's 
personality.  It  is  the  necessary  outcome  of  personality. 
Given  power  to  think,  and  acquaintance  with  a  few  funda- 
mental rules  of  structure,  practice  is  the  one  thing  neces- 
sary to  develop  power  of  expression.  Thus  it  will  be  seen 
that  style  depends  upon  the  whole  intellectual  habit  of  the 
man,  and  is  conditioned  by  the  training  of  the  mind  in  all 
departments  of  work.  N^o  amount  or  kind  of  training  in 
English  can  make  a  loose  thinker  habitually  express  him- 
self with  clearness  and  precision.  The  blame  for  the  poor 
English  of  some  of  our  students  lies  quite  as  often  with 
the  mathematical  and  classical  departments  as  with  our 
own,  and  not  infrequently  we  must  hark  back  still  farther 
if  we  would  accurately  place  the  responsibility. 

But  although  style  is  not  directly  secured  by  the  study 
of  English  literature,  it  may  be  greatly  modified  and  influ- 
enced by  such  study.  The  most  healthful  and  helpful 
influence  will  come  from  study  that  is  not  consciously  con- 
cerned with  one's  own  power  of  expression.  We  are  so 
constituted  that  we  can  scarcely  help  imitating  that  with 
which,  we  are  closely  acquainted,  especially  if  that  acquaint- 
ance is  accompanied  by  admiration.  The  more  closely  and 
sympathetically  we  study  an  author,  therefore,  the  more 
we  shall  find  our  manner  of  expression  conforming  to  his, 
especially  in  those  respects  in  which  he  appeals  to  us  most 
strongly.  The  study  of  literature,  then,  that  will  best  help 
in  the  development  of  style  is  the  study  that  is  at  the  same 
time  most  sympathetic  and  most  discriminating,  appreciat- 
ing what  is  excellent,  and  condemning  what  is  less  worthy. 


SUGGESTIONS  FOR   TEACHERS  xxxvii 

In  other  words,  the  study  that  will  give  the  best  results  in 
the  appreciation  of  literature  will  also  give  the  best  results 
in  acquiring  style. 

The  primary  aim,  then,  in  the  study  of  any  work  is 
genuine  appreciation  of  that  work.  The  particular  points 
to  be  emphasized  in  study  will  vary  in  different  cases. 
Usually  these  points  will  be  those  that  constitute  the  pecu- 
liar excellence  of  the  work  in  question.  For  example,  in 
one  case  the  emphasis  would  be  laid  upon  the  thought,  or 
upon  the  logical  structure  of  the  whole  work;  in  another, 
the  sentence  structure  and  diction  might  call  for  particu- 
lar notice. 

What,  now,  are  the  points  to  be  noted  in  the  "  Essay 
on  Burns  "  ?  Viewing  it  as  a  whole,  we  find  it  decidedly 
weak  in  logical  structure,  rambling  and  disconnected,  but 
surcharged  with  moral  earnestness  and  energy.  As  Mr. 
Morley  has  said,  it  is  a  ^'sermon  on  life,"  and  it  is  when 
we  view  it  as  such  that  we  find  its  chief  value.  The 
ethical  outweighs  the  intellectual,  and  the  ethical  is  the 
side  to  be  emphasized. 

From  the  standpoint  of  style  Carlyle  is  not,  in  most 
respects,  a  good  model  for  our  students.  He  possessed  a 
wonderful  mastery  of  style,  but  his  impetuosity  and  extrav- 
agance, his  desire  for  strength  even  at  the  expense  of 
clearness,  make  him  dangerous  unless  studied  with  dis- 
crimination. In  paragraph  structure  he  is,  according  to 
our  present-day  ideas,  painfully  deficient.  Unity  is  often 
entirely  lacking,  and  it  sometimes  appears  almost  as  if  he 
had  written  straight  ahead,  and  then  divided  the  matter 
into  paragraphs  of  convenient  size,  purely  at  haphazard. 
The  sentences  in  the  ''Essay  on  Burns"  are  more  nor- 
mally constructed  than  in  his  later  work — compare,  for 
example,  those  in  the  selection  from  ''Heroes  and  Hero 
Worship,"  appended  to  the  essay  in  this  volume — but  even 
here  they  set  at  defiance  nearly  all  rules.     It  is  in  his  die- 


xxxviii  SUGGESTIONS  FOR   TEACHERS 

tion,  his  choice  and  use  of  words,  that  we  find  the  most  to 
praise  unreservedly.  The  qualities  of  style  that  most  im- 
press us  in  the  essay  are  vividness  and  energy.  The  secret 
of  this  vividness  we  find  in  his  burning  earnestness  of  heart 
and  intense  energy  of  mind,  in  his  unusual  command  of 
words,  and  in  his  willingness  to  sacrifice  conventionality, 
and  even  clearness  if  necessary,  in  order  to  produce  an 
immediate  and  powerful  effect. 

From  the  broader  standpoint,  then,  the  chief  point  to 
be  emphasized  in  the  study  of  the  essay  is  Carlyle's  thought, 
the  moral  that  he  is  trying  to  teach.  From  the  standpoint 
of  style,  the  weakness  of  paragraph  structure  should  be 
noted  in  passing,  as  well  as  the  irregularity  of  the  sen- 
tences; but  the  chief  emphasis  should  be  laid  upon  the 
vividness  and  strength  of  style,  made  possible  by  the 
mastery  of  words  and  by  the  impetuous  freedom  in  the 
formation  of  sentences.  At  the  risk  of  repetition,  how- 
ever, it  should  be  said  again  that  the  essay  is  not  well 
adapted  to  the  study  of  style,  and  that  the  chief  emphasis 
should  be  laid  upon  the  grasping  of  the  thought  and  pur- 
pose of  the  whole. 

The  following  is  offered  as  a  suggestive  plan,  capable  of 
being  materially  modified: 

First,  let  the  pupils  acquire  some  knowledge  of  Carlyle, 
such  as  may  be  gained  from  'the  introduction  to  this  book, 
supplemented  by  a  familiar  talk  by  the  teacher,  or  by  refer- 
ence to  easily  accessible  works.  This  reverses  the  usual 
rule  that  the  study  of  a  man's  works  should  precede  the 
study  of  his  life;  but  Carlyle  is  not  easy  reading  for  young 
students,  and  some  knowledge  of  his  personality,  aims,  and 
methods  will  tend  to  clear  up  his  often  confusing  obscurity 
and  to  straighten  out  his  wandering  line  of  thought.  In 
the  same  manner  a  knowledge  of  the  important  facts  of 
Burns's  life  should  be  acquired,  in  order  that  the  allusions 
in  the  essay  may  be  readily  understood.     This  preliminary 


SUGGESTIONS  FOR   TEACHERS  xxxix 

work  need  take  very  little  time  or  study;  certainly  not  more 
than  one  recitation  need  be  given  to  it,  and  it  is  possible  to 
do  it  even  without  that. 

In  the  second  place  let  the  pupils  read  the  entire  essay 
out  of  class,  nrgirig  them  to  do  it  in  as  few  sittings  as  pos- 
sible, and  cautioning  them  not  to  be  discouraged  if  they 
come  out  with  very  confused  ideas  as  to  what  it  is  all  about. 
It  would  be  remarkable  if  they  came  out  otherwise.  One 
of  the  great  moral  advantages  of  the  close  study  of  a  work 
of  this  kind  is  the  revelation  to  the  student  of  what  a 
wealth  of  beauty  and  interest  such  study  can  reveal  in 
something  that  appears,  on  superficial  reading,  to  be  hope- 
lessly dry  and  barren,  or  to  be  entirely  beyond  their  powers. 
In  my  own  classes  when  beginning  a  work  of  any  difficulty, 
I  almost  invariably  prescribe  this  preliminary  reading,  and 
frequently  devote  the  first  recitation  to  questioning  the 
pupils  in  such  a  way  as  to  show  how  much  they  have  missed 
in  their  first  reading,  and  to  give  them  some  hint  of  what 
will  be  revealed  by  closer  study.  The  value  is  twofold :  it 
teaches  them  how  to  read  more  carefully,  and  it  inculcates 
the  very  important  truth  that  the  best  things  in  literature 
do  not  disclose  themselves  to  the  careless  reader.  Care 
should  be  taken  to  allow  ample  time  for  this  preliminary 
reading.  The  boys  and  girls  in  our  secondary  schools  are 
already  worked  hard,  and  Carlyle  is  by  no  means  easy  read- 
ing for  them. 

Then  let  one  or  two  recitations  be  devoted  to  a  general 
discussion  of  the  plan  and  purpose  of  the  whole  essay,  and 
of  the  most  striking  characteristics  of  Carlyle's  thought 
and  style,  as  noticed  in  the  first  reading.  This  discussion 
should  be  suggestive  rather  than  complete,  and  the  aim 
should  be  rather  to  formulate  inquiries  than  to  answer 
them.  It  will  have  fully  served  its  purpose  if  it  gives  the 
pupils  a  tolerably  clear  idea  of  Carlyle's  main  purpose  in 
writing  the  essay,  and  presents  to  them  certain  questions 


xl  SUGGESTIONS  FOR   TEACHERS 

that  can  only  be  answered  by  closer  study.  In  this  discus- 
sion it  is  desirable  to  note  the  main  divisions  of  the  essay 
as  indicated  by  the  Eoman  numerals  in  the  text,  and  to 
discover  the  general  topic  treated  under  each  head,  although 
the  exact  formulation  of  these  topics  should  be  left  till 
later. 

We  are  nov^^  ready  to  undertake  the  more  detailed  study 
of  the  essay,  say  three  recitation  periods  and  considera- 
ble outside  reading  having  been  given  to  acquiring  some 
slight  knowledge  of  Carlyle  and  Burns,  and  to  gaining  a 
general,  although  probably  vague,  idea  of  the  essay  as  a 
whole.  The  exact  plan  to  be  followed  in  the  detailed 
study  will  depend  largely  upon  the  amount  of  time  avail- 
able. If  time  were  unlimited  a  most  valuable  method  of 
procedure  would  be  to  have  the  whole  essay  read  aloud  in 
class  with  accompanying  question  and  comment.  There 
is  nothing  quite  as  inspiring  as  the  reading  aloud  of  a  great 
work,  with  enough  sharp  questions  to  keep  the  class  think- 
ing, and  enough  sympathetic  comment  to  clear  up  the  dark 
places,  and  to  illumine  the  special  points  of  interest.  It 
is  of  more  value  than  many  written  themes  and  examina- 
tions. Time  will  undoubtedly  not  allow  the  carrying  out 
of  this  plan,  but  it  is  desirable  to  have  as  much  of  the  essay 
read  aloud  as  possible,  taking  pains  to  select  the  passages 
of  most  importance  in  the  development  of  the  thought,  as 
well  as  those  most  marked  by  eloquence  and  beauty  of  style. 
Some  of  this  reading  may  be  done  by  the  teacher,  but  it 
should  be  done  mainly  by  the  class.  It  may  not  be  so  well 
done,  but  it  will  be  more  effective. 

A  definite  portion  of  the  text  should  then  be  assigned  for 
study  and  recitation,  the  quantity  depending  upon  the  time 
available  and  other  circumstances.  In  assigning  these  les- 
sons, care  should  be  taken  to  preserve  unity  of  thought; 
that  is,  the  point  of  stopping  should  be  determined  not 
by  the  number  of  the  page,  but  by  Carlyle's  development  of 


SUGGESTIONS  FOB   TEACHERS  xli 

the  subject.  If  possible,  it  would  be  desirable  to  have  each 
lesson  cover  a  distinct  division  or  subdivision  of  the  whole 
essay. 

The  pupils- should  be  instructed  to  strive  for  two  things 
in  their  study — to  grasp  the  thought  and  purpose  of  the 
whole  selection,  and  to  understand  the  meaning  of  every 
sentence  and  expression  in  the  selection.  This  last  point 
is  of  great  importance.  Tliere  are  two  kinds  of  apprecia- 
tion of  literature,  which  may  for  convenience  be  distin- 
guished as  mechanical  and  spiritual.  They  are  not  mutu- 
ally exclusive,  but  in  our  desire  to  emphasize  the  higher,  or 
spiritual,  side,  we  often  neglect  the  lower,  but  no  less  im- 
portant, phase.  The  result  is  seen  in  a  certain  vagueness 
of  thought  and  obscurity  of  expression.  The  mechanical 
should  precede  the  spiritual,  and  there  is  no  legitimate 
reason  why  the  former  should  interfere  with  the  latter. 
The  successive  steps  in  a  geometrical  demonstration  are  no 
hindrance  to  grasping  clearly  the  final  conclusion.  The 
point  is  worth  dwelling  upon  and  repeating,  for  there  is  a 
very  prevalent  idea  that  the  one  thing  to  be  sought  in  the 
study  of  literature  is  the  general  spirit  and  purpose,  and 
that  attention  to  details  is  distinctly  unworthy  of  the 
highest  aims.  There  is  enough  truth  in  this  to  make  it 
extremely  dangerous.  Attention  to  unimportant  and  irrele- 
vant details  is  unworthy  and  distracting,  but,  as  every 
teacher  knows,  it  is  entirely  possible  for  a  class  or  for  a 
pupil  to  apprehend  tlie  general  purport  of  a  passage, 
without  any  comprehension  of  the  means  by  which  the 
conclusion  has  been  reached.  AYe  are  not  so  much  con- 
cerned to  have  the  pupil  know  the  conclusion,  as  to  have 
him  follow  out  the  successive  steps  by  which  the  author  has 
reached  that  conclusion.  It  is  not  of  so  much  importance 
that  he  should  know  what  was  Carlyle's  opinion  of  "  Tarn 
o'  Shanter,"  as  that  he  should  have  worked  out  for  himself 
the  grounds  upon  which  Carlyle  bases  that  opinion,  and 


xlii  SUGGESTIONS  FOR   TEACHERS 

thus  be  better  prepared  to  understand  any  similar  passage 
that  he  may  encounter.  It  is,  I  think,  quite  generally 
agreed  that  the  point  in  which  our  pupils  in  English  are 
most  deficient,  is  in  their  inability  to  understand  the  Eng- 
lish language,  especially  when  written  or  printed,  and  the 
result  of  this,  of  course,  is  confusion  and  obscurity  of  expres- 
sion. For  this  reason,  the  understanding  of  every  sentence 
and  expression  is  a  matter  of  great  importance,  but  at  the 
same  time  it  should  be  impressed  upon  the  pupils  that  this 
is  only  a  means  to  an  end,  and  that  the  great  aim  to  be 
always  kept  in  view  is  the  meaning  and  purpose  of  the 
whole. 

As  an  example  of  what  is  meant  by  understanding  every 
sentence  and  expression,  the  pupil  should  be  able  to  answer 
such  questions  as  the  following  on  the  first  paragraph: 
How  did  Butler  '^  ask  for  bread  and  receive  a  stone"? 
What  is  meant  by  the  "  maxim  of  supply  and  demand  "  ? 
State  the  thought  contained  in  the  second  sentence  in  your 
own  words,  avoiding  the  use  of  figures.  Explain  the 
meaning  of  ^'apostle  of  a  true  religion,"  '^aggravation," 
^'posthumous,"  ''in  the  course  of  nature,"  "penury," 
''prime,"  "mausoleum,"  "commentator."  State  in  a 
single  sentence  or  phrase  the  topic  of  the  paragraph. 

Similar  questions  in  regard  to  paragraph  28  might  be: 
What  is  meant  by  "  tenacity  "  ?  Explain  the  second  sen- 
tence, i.e,,  what  tradition?  cooperates  with  what?  Ex- 
plain the  meaning  of  ' '  Celt, "  "  Cacus, "  "  stu  rt, ' ' 
"Mmrod,"  and  "  ]N"apoleon. "  Just  what  does  Carlyle 
mean  by  that  sentence  ?  In  the  next  sentence  what  does 
he  mean  by  "  a  touch  of  grace  "  ?  What  is  meant  by  "on 
the  wings  of  that  poor  melody  his  better  soul  would  soar," 
etc.?  Explain  "  as  at  Thebes  and  in  Pelops'  line."  How 
was  "  material  Fate  matched  against  man's  Free-will  "  in 
Macpherson's  case?  How  is  the  feeling  with  which  we 
listen  to  the  song  "  half -barbarous,  half -poetic  "  ? 


SUGGESTIONS  FOR   TEACHERS  xliii 

The  metliod  of  recitation,  of  course,  will  vary  with  the 
individual  teacher,  but  its  purpose  and  aim  should  be 
threefold — to  test  the  work  of  the  class,  to  enlighten  them 
upon  the  points  which  they  have  been  unable  to  master 
unaided,  and  to  furnish  a  guide  and  stimulus  for  future 
work.  How  to  attain  this  triple  result  is  a  problem  for 
each  teacher  to  work  out  for  himself,  but  some  suggestions 
can  be  given  that  may  be  of  assistance. 

A  limited  amount  of  written  work  to  be  done  in  prepara- 
tion may  be  assigned  with  advantage,  but  the  quantity 
should  be  small  and  the  subjects  specific.  For  example^ 
if  the  lesson  were  the  first  division  of  the  essay  on 
Burns,  the  pupils  might  be  required  to  write  out  in 
advance  the  topic  of  each  paragraph  and  of  the  whole  divi- 
sion. These  should  be  written  on  paper  ready  to  be 
handed  in  for  inspection  if  desired.  In  the  class  the  dis- 
cussion of  the  various  forms  suggested  supplies  an  admir- 
able basis  for  the  recitation,  and  when  the  final  form  of 
the  topic  has  been  agreed  upon,  the  pupils  should  write  this 
or  some  other  approved  wording  in  their  note-books. 
Thus,  when  the  essay  is  completed,  the  note-books  will  con- 
tain a  tolerably  complete  and  accurate  analysis  of  the 
whole.  With  some  of  Macaulay's  essays  it  is  possible  to 
make  an  almost  perfect  analysis,  by  simply  writing  out  the 
topics  of  the  successive  paragraphs,  and  then  dividing 
these  topics  into  proper  groups.  This  is  not  possible  with 
Carlyle;  indeed,  it  is  sometimes  difficult  to  determine  what 
is  the  topic  of  a  given  paragraph,  and  the  structure  of  the 
whole  essay  cannot  be  called  strictly  logical.  Still,  by  fol- 
lowing the  paragraph  structure  where  it  is  feasible,  and 
writing  down  the  successive  topics  without  regard  to  para- 
graphs where  it  is  not  feasible,  the  desired  result  may  be 
attained.  The  advantage  of  this  plan  is  that  it  forces  the 
pupil  to  think  as  he  reads,  to  think  of  the  particular 
passage  in  its  relation  to  the  whole,  and  to  formulate  con- 


xliv  SUGGESTIONS  FOR   TEACHERS 

cisely  his  conception  of  the  purpose  of  the  author.  An 
incidental  advantage,  but  one  by  no  means  to  be  despised, 
is  the  turning  of  the  attention  to  paragraph  structure,  and 
I  am  inclined  to  think  that  there  is  no  better  way  for  the 
pupil  to  attain  a  mastery  of  this  subject.  After  the  state- 
ment of  a  few  principles,  the  constant  turning  of  the  atten- 
tion to  paragraph  structure  in  his  reading  will  fix  it  in  the 
mind  as  nothing  else  can. 

The  "  explanatory  notes  "  should  in  all  cases  be  referred 
to  by  the  pupils  in  preparing  the  lesson,  but  any  recitation 
upon  them  should  be  conducted  with  very  great  caution. 
It  is  easy  for  a  pupil  to  get  the  idea  that  preparation  of 
the  lesson  means  learning  the  notes.  They  are  given  as 
an  aid  to  understanding  the  essay,  and  should  be  so  used. 
It  is  a  debated  question  whether  information  in  regard  to 
the  allusions  in  the  text  should  be  given  in  the  form  of 
notes  at  all,  or  whether  the  pupil  should  be  sent  for  him- 
self to  the  encyclopaedia  and  other  works  of  reference.  Of 
course,  the  habit  of  looking  up  allusions  for  oneself  is 
extremely  valuable,  and  to  be  encouraged  in  every  way 
possible;  but  if  all  the  pupils  were  to  look  up  all  the  allu- 
sions in  such  an  essay,  there  would  be  time  for  little  else, 
and  the  study  would  become  that  of  useful  information 
rather  than  of  literature.  Again,  it  is  difficult  to  see  just 
wherein  consists  the  special  virtue  of  learning  when  Samuel 
Butler  lived,  or  who  was  the  inventor  of  the  spinning- 
jenny,  from  an  encyclopaedia  rather  than  from  a  conven- 
ient note.  There  is  far  more  value,  so  far  as  training  and 
habit  are  concerned,  in  following  one  allusion  thoroughly, 
comparing  authorities,  and  formulating  a  conclusion  for 
oneself,  than  in  looking  up  twenty  names  in  a  biographical 
dictionary.  For  this  reason  the  aim  has  been  to  supply  in 
the  notes  practically  all  the  information  necessary  to 
understanding  the  text,  and  all  the  pupils  are  expected  to 
refer  constantly  to  the  notes,  but  not  to  learn  them.    Many 


SUGGESTIONS  FOR   TEACHERS  xlv 

of  the  allusions  are  worthy  of  more  careful  study.  These 
may  be  assigned  to  members  or  sections  of  the  class,  with 
instructions  to  look  them  up  thoroughly,  and  to  bring  in 
an  oral,  or  better,  a  short  written,  statement  on  the  sub- 
ject. It  may  be  advantageous  to  allow  the  pupils  some 
choice  in  the  subjects  which  they  are  to  look  up;  hints 
and  suggestions  as  to  the  best  sources  of  information 
should  be  freely  given,  and  it  is  well  to  have  the  final 
report  accompanied  by  a  statement  of  the  authorities  con- 
sulted. 

Another  very  useful  exercise  is  to  have  the  pupils  sum- 
marize, in  a  single  properly  constructed  paragraph,  the 
thought  contained  in  a  given  section  of  the  essay,  for 
instance,  Carlyle's  idea  of  what  Burns's  biography  should 
be,  as  set  forth  in  the  first  section.  Such  an  exercise  should 
be  assigned  only  after  the  given  portion  has  been  studied 
and  discussed,  and  after  the  topical  analysis  has  been  com- 
pleted. Then  it  becomes  a  most  valuable  exercise  in  the 
formulation  and  expression  of  ideas  that  already  exist  in 
the  mind.  This  touches  a  most  important  principle  in 
the  assignment  of  composition  subjects,  namely,  that  the 
topics  should  almost  invariably  be  those  in  regard  to  which 
the  pupil  has  already  formed  ideas.  Thought  must  pre- 
cede expression,  but  our  pupils  have  as  yet  very  little 
power  of  independent  thought.  Assign  them  a  subject 
of  any  difficulty,  in  regard  to  which  they  have  not  formed 
definite  views,  with  instructions  to  write  upon  it,  and  the 
result  is  certain  to  be  vague  and  confused,  both  in  thought 
and  expression.  The  trouble  with  our  students  entering 
college  is  frequently  not  so  much  lack  of  ability  to  express, 
as  lack  of  ability  to  express  that  which  does  not  exist;  that 
is,  to  write  coherently  on  a  subject  in  regard  to  which  they 
possess  no  definite  ideas. 

Some  interesting  experiments  have  been  tried  by  the 
editor  in  this  line.     One  week  he  would  assign  the  class  a 


xlvi  SUGGESTIONS  FOR   TEACHERS 

composition  subject  like  those  set  a  few  years  ago  by 
nearly  all  of  the  colleges  in  entrance  examinations^  taking 
pains  to  avoid  the  most  difficult  and  unreasonable.  The 
following  Aveek  he  would  assign  a  subject  that  was  well 
within  their  grasp,  or  a  more  difficult  one  that  had  already 
been  discussed,  without  any  idea  on  their  part,  however, 
that  it  was  eventually  to  be  written  upon.  The  result,  as 
nearly  as  could  be  estimated,  was  that,  leaving  the  thought 
entirely  out  of  the  account,  the  latter  compositions  averaged 
in  expression  alone,  from  forty  to  fifty  per  cent,  better  than 
the  former.  This  superiority  extended  even  to  spelling 
and  grammar,  and  in  no  instance  did  the  result  vary  ma- 
terially. 

Another  exercise  may  be  to  ask  a  definite  question  as  to 
some  opinion  or  statement  in  the  text,  to  be  answered  in  a 
short,  properly  constructed  paragraph;  for  instance.  What 
is  Oarlyle's  judgment  of  Lockhart's  "  Life  "  ?  or  What  is 
Carlyle's  idea  of  a  model  biography  ?  In  some  instances 
the  pupil  may  be  given  the  option  of  stating  Oarlyle's  view 
or  of  opposing  it. 

AVith  very  great  caution,  and  perhaps  only  as  an  optional 
subject  for  pupils  to  whom  it  appeals,  a  general  statement, 
as,  for  example,  the  second  sentence  in  the  first  paragraph, 
"  The  inventor  of  a  spinning-jenny  is  pretty  sure  of  his 
reward  in  his  own  day,"  etc.,  may  be  assigned,  to  be  either 
proved  or  opposed  in  a  single  paragraph.  It  is  difficult  for 
pupils  to  write  well  on  such  a  subject,  but  if  there  has 
been  interest  awakened  by  discussion  in  the  class,  and  if 
the  pupil  has  been  forced  to  do  his  thinking  before  begin- 
ning to  write,  by  preparing  an  analysis  of  his  treatment 
in  advance,  this  kind  of  subject  may  be  used  sparingly 
with  decided  advantage. 

It  may  frequently  be  found  desirable  to  spend  from  five 
to  ten  minutes  of  the  recitation  period  in  writing  a  short 
paragraph  on  one  of  the  suggested  topics.      These  may  be 


SUGGESTIONS  FOR   TEACHERS  xlvii 

read  aloud  and  criticised  orally,  or  simply  handed  in  for 
the  usual  private  inspection. 

These  remarks  may  serve  to  suggest  methods  in  which 
the  stndy  of  the  essay  may  afford  practice  in  composition, 
and  in  which  writing  may  afford  valuable  aid  in  the  study 
of  the  essay.  Care  should  be  taken  to  select  subjects  for 
writing  that  are  relevant  to  the  spirit  and  purpose  of  the 
whole  essay,  and  the  treatment  of  which  will  aid  in  gain- 
ing a  comprehension  of  that  spirit  and  purpose;  the  sub- 
jects should  be  definite  and  specific  rather  than  general; 
they  should  be  well  within  the  grasp  of  the  pupils'  minds, 
and  usually  should  be  topics  already  discussed  in  the  class. 
The  treatment  required  should  be  brief,  and  everything 
like  padding  and  diffuseness  should  be  discouraged.  Usu- 
ally it  will  be  well  to  call  for  a  single  paragraph  in  which 
the  fundamental  principles  of  paragraph  structure  can 
be  rigidly  insisted  upon.  The  experience  of  teachers  is 
tending  strongly  to  show  the  practical  advantage  of  mak- 
ing the  paragraph  the  basis  of  all  composition  work.  A 
list  of  topics  for  writing  is  appended,  which  is  not  intended 
to  be  at  all  exhaustive  or  complete,  or  to  be  followed,  even 
in  part,  by  any  teacher,  but  which  may  serve  to  suggest 
the  kind  of  topics  that  will  be  found  desirable. 

When  the  entire  essay  has  thus  been  completed,  part  by 
part,  two  or  three  recitations  should  be  devoted  to  discus- 
sion of  the  whole  essay,  its  style,  structure,  purpose,  etc., 
the  aim  being  to  ^x  in  the  pupils'  minds  a  clear  concep- 
tion of  the  work  as  a  whole,  and  of  the  general  plan  on 
which  Carlyle  develops  his  subject.  It  will  be  a  distinct 
advantage  if  the  class  can  again  read  the  entire  essay  con- 
secutively. If  the  work  has  been  successfully  done,  this 
second  reading  will  he  almost  a  revelation  to  them,  both  of 
the  beauty  and  interest  of  the  essay,  and  of  the  value  of 
careful  study  of  a  great  literary  work.  The  last  recitation^ 
period  may  fitly  be  devoted  to  a  written  examination,  in 


xlviii  SUGGESTIONS  FOR   TEACHERS 

which  the  questions^  however,  should  test  the  pupils'  appre- 
ciation of  the  plan  and  purpose  of  the  whole  essay,  rather 
than  their  knowledge  of  details. 

While  with  other  prose  writers,  Addison,  Macaulay,  and 
Webster,  for  example,  the  rhetorical  element  may  be  empha- 
sized, and  their  writings  may  be  used  as  a  basis  for  the 
study  of  style,  with  Oarlyle  this  element  should  be  dis- 
tinctly subordinated.  True,  this  essay  is  marked  by  a 
superb  mastery  of  style,  and  does  not  disclose  the  extrava- 
gant mannerisms  of  later  years;  still,  even  at  his  best, 
Oarlyle  is  a  dangerous  model  to  place  before  students  who 
are  not  able  to  discriminate  clearly,  and  who  are  more  likely 
to  imitate  his  mannerisms  than  those  things  that  give  him 
his  real  power.  For  this  reason,  the  rhetorical  study  of 
this  essay  should  be  distinctly  subordinate  and  incidental. 
A  few  recitation  periods  might  perhaps  be  devoted  to  the 
formal  study  of  Carlyle's  style,  but  it  will  probably  be  found 
better  simply  to  call  attention,  in  passing,  to  the  most 
noteworthy  points. 

In  formulating  the  topical  analysis  it  will  be  easy  to  note 
the  excellence  or  weakness  of  the  paragraph  structure.  The 
two  points  to  be  particularly  observed,  are  the  indication 
of  the  topic  at  the  beginning  of  the  paragraph,  and  the 
unity  of  subject,  or  the  lack  of  it,  in  the  paragraph  itself. 
This  work,  as  has  been  already  said,  has  a  double  value,  in 
that  it  is  also  of  great  assistance  in  obtaining  a  clear  under- 
standing of  the  thought. 

The  sentences  in  ''Burns"  and  Carlyle's  earlier  essays 
are  constructed  on  more  conventional  lines  than  in  his  later 
work.  In  some  cases  they  are  apparently  fashioned  Avith 
considerable  care  and  thought.  They  are  generally  ''ex- 
tremely simple  in  construction — consisting,  for  the  most 
part,  of  two  or  three  co-ordinate  statements,  or  of  a  short, 
.  direct  statement,  eked  out  by  explanatory  clauses  either 
in  apposition  or  in  the  '  nominative  absolute  '  construction. 


suaaESTioNs  for  teachers  xlix 

These  apposition  and  absolute  clauses  are  the  'tag-rags/ 
and  it  is  in  the  connection  of  them  with  the  main  state- 
ment that  we  find  the  '  dashes  and  parentheses. ' ' '  Ex- 
amples of  this  form  of  sentence  may  be  found  in  nearly 
every  paragraph,  and  it  will  usually  be  found  sufficient  for 
the  teacher  to  point  out  occasional  striking  instances. 

In  command  of  words  Carlyle  stands  in  the  very  front 
rank.  It  has  been  said  that  ''in  the  language  needful 
for  describing  character  he  probably  comes  nearer  Shak- 
spere  than  any  other  of  our  great  writers."  For  an 
example  of  this,  taken  almost  at  random,  read  aloud  para- 
graph 18.  In  later  life  two  mannerisms  grew  upon  him 
— the  use  of  what  may  be  called  "barbarous  words,"  and 
the  use  of  one  part  of  speech  for  another, — nouns  for  verbs, 
adjectives  and  adverbs  for  nouns.  These  peculiarities, 
however,  are  not  noticeable  in  this  essay,  although  examples 
may  be  found. 

Carlyle's  use  of  figures  is  one  of  the  most  striking  evi- 
dences of  his  original  power,  and  some  attention  may  well  be 
paid  to  this  characteristic  of  his  style.  In  studying  figures, 
however,  the  aim  should  be  to  discover  how  they  are  used 
to  produce  the  desired  effect,  rather  than  to  attempt  to 
classify  them.  The  striking  figures  should  be  noted  in 
passing,  and  it  may  be  well  to  select  a  few  passages  in  which 
they  are  especially  abundant  for  closer  study. 

An  immature  student,  however,  is  hardly  capable  of 
analyzing  the  secret  of  Carlyle's  style.  Strength,  vivid- 
ness, energy, — these  are  his  striking  characteristics,  and 
these  must  be  felt,  rather  than  found  by  dissection.  To 
rouse  in  the  pupil  a  sense  of  his  power,  and  to  give  him  per- 
haps a  general  idea  of  the  means  by  which  he  attained  it, 
is  about  all  that  may  wisely  be  attempted.  The  pupils  may 
be  encouraged  to  mark  passages  that  especially  appeal  to 
them,  and  to  note  any  particularly  striking  instances  of 
the  use  of  words  or  figures,  but  the  chief  reliance  must  be 


]  SUGGESTIONS  FOR   TEACHERS 

upon  the  enthusiastic  appreciation  of  the  teacher,  and  on 
his  power  to  inspire  the  class  with  his  feeling.  Enthusiasm 
is  contagious,  and  the  teacher  who  possesses  it  has  small 
need  of  prescribed  methodstocommunicateit  to  his  pujDils. 

These  suggestions  have  been  made  in  the  hope  that  they 
may  be  useful  as  hints,  to  be  developed  or  modified  accord- 
ing to  one's  own  individuality,  but  it  should  never  be  for- 
gotten that  the  power  in  teaching  is  not  in  the  method  or 
in  the  text-book,  but  in  the  personality  of  the  teacher. 
The  stronger  the  teacher,  the  less  should  he  be  held  to  pre- 
scribed methods.  A  definite  aim  and  enthusiasm — these 
are  the  essentials  for  the  teaching  of  English,  as  for  the 
teaching  of  every  subject. 

Bibliography. — Burns :  Editions  of  Burns's  poems  are 
almost  numberless.  Almost  any  one  of  them  will  serv'^e  a 
student's  purpose.  The  best  cheap  edition  is  that  of 
Fawside  (Longmans).  The  best  of  the  more  elaborate 
editions  are  Dr.  Chambers's  ^'Life  and  Works  of  Eobert 
Burns,"  revised  and  partially  rewritten  by  William  Wal- 
lace (four  vols.,  Longmans);  ''Works  of  Eobert  Burns," 
(six  vols.,  Paterson);  and  ''The  Poetry  of  Burns,"  edited 
by  Henley  and  Henderson  (Edinburgh,  Jack;  Boston, 
Houghton).  A  volume  of  Burns's  letters  is  included  in 
the  Camelot  Classics.  The  best  short  biographies  of 
Burns  are  those  by  Leslie  Stephen  in  the  "  J^ational 
Dictionary  of  Biography";  Professor  Blackie  (Great 
Writers  Series) ;  Principal  Shairp  (English  Men  of  Letters 
Series);  and  Gabriel  Setoun  (Great  Scots  Series).  The 
most  complete  life  is  that  by  Dr.  Chambers,  mentioned 
above.  Lockhart's  biography,  which  Carlyle  reviewed, 
still  keeps  its  interest.  Explanations  of  Burns's  Scotch 
may  be  found  in  the  glossaries  that  accompany  almost 
every  edition  of  his  poems,  and  in  Cuthbertson's  "Com- 
plete Glossary  to  the  Poetry  and  Prose  of  R.  Burns."  The 
best  and  most  interestinsr  criticisms  on  Burns  will  be  found 


SUGGESTIONS  FOR   TEACHERS  \i 

in  the  biographies  mentioned  above,  in  Taine's  ''  History 
of  English  Literature/'  Minto's  '' Literature  of  the 
Georgian  Era,"  Mrs.  Oliphant's  "  Literary  History  of  Eng- 
land in  the  End  of  the  Eighteenth  and  the  Beginning  of 
the  Nineteenth  Century,"  Veitch's  ''The  Feeling  for 
Nature  in  Scotch  Poetry,"  Ward's  ''English  Poets,"  and 
in  Stevenson's  essay  in  "Familiar  Studies  of  Men  and 
Books."  The  student  will  be  interested  in  looking  up 
Whittier's  and  Wordsworth's  poems  on  Burns,  and  the 
criticisms  by  Emerson  ("  Miscellanies  "),  and  Hawthorne 
("Our  Old  Home  ").  A  good  bibliography  may  be  found 
at  the  end  of  Blackie's  "  Life." 

Carlyle :  The  various  editions  and  reprints  of  Oarlyle's 
works  call  for  no  special  comment.  The  best  short  biog- 
raphies of  Carlyle  are  those  by  Garnett  (Great  Writers 
Series);  Leslie  Stephen  (in  the  "National  Dictionary  of 
Biography");  and  by  Nichol  (English  Men  of  Letters 
Series).  Fronde's  longer  "Life"  in  four  volumes  may 
be  consulted  for  more  minute  information,  as  well  as  the 
volumes  of  Carlyle's  correspondence  with  Emerson,  Goethe, 
etc.,  which  have  been  edited  by  Professor  C.  E.  Nor- 
ton. The  best  criticisms  are  those  by  Arnold,  in  the  lec- 
ture on  Emerson,  published  in  his  "Discourses  in  Amer- 
ica"; Lowell,  in  "My  Study  Windows";  Minto  in  his 
"  Manual  of  English  Prose  Literature  " ;  and  John  Morley, 
in  his  "  Critical  Miscellanies."  For  the  host  of  magazine 
articles  Poole's  "Index"  may  be  consulted.  A  good 
bibliography  will  be  found  at  the  end  of  Garnett's  "  Life," 


SPECIMEN    TOPICS    FOR    WRITTEN 
EXERCISES 

Ui^LESS  expressly  stated  otherwise,  it  is  understood  that 
each  exercise  is  to  consist  of  a  single  properly  constructed 
paragraph.  Topics  preceded  by  a  *  are  intended  as  optional 
subjects,  to  be  assigned  only  to  special  pupils.  Suggestions 
as  to  allusions  that  may  be  more  carefully  investigated, 
may  be  gained  from  the  Explanatory  Notes. 

1.  Is  the  statement  in  the  second  sentence  of  paragraph  1 
— '^  The  inventor  of  a  spinning-jenny,"  etc. — true,  and  if 
so,  why? 
s/     2.  AVhat  did  Carlyle  think  had  been  lacking  in  the  pre- 
vious biographies  of  Burns?     (Paragraphs  2-5.) 

3.  What    is    Carlyle's   theory    of   a    good   biography? 
jj  (Paragraph  5.) 

4.  What  is  meant  by  the  expression,  "  He  had  his  very 
materials  to  discover"?  How  and  why  was  his  material 
new?     (Paragraph  6.) 

^^^^  5.  *  Compare  Carlyle's  view  (in  paragraph  6)  of  the 
^Unfavorable  circumstances  surrounding  Burns,  with  Macau- 
/  lay's  view  of  those  affecting  Milton,  in  the  first  part  of  the 

essay  on  Milton.     Are  they  inconsistent,  and  if  so  which 

is  right?     (Two  or  three  paragraphs.) 
j       G.   Summarize  in  a  single  paragraph  the  leading  ideas 
(  of  the  second  division  of  the  essay.     (Paragraphs  6-9.) 
7.  *  Compare  the  thought  in  lines  29-33,  page  11,  with 

a  similar  idea  in  the  first  paragraph  of  Emerson's  essay  on 

^^Self-Reliance." 


SPECIMEN  TOPICS  FOR  WRITTEN  EXERCISES  \m 

8.  *  Carlyle  and  Emerson — their  similarity  as  authors 
and  their  friendship  as  men.     (Length  optional.) 
y^  9.  What  does  Carlyle  mean  by  '^Sincerity"?    _(Para- 
graphs  11,  12.) 

10.  Condense  the  thought  in  paragraphs  11-13  into  a 
single,  short,  well-balanced  paragraph. 

11.  *  How  does  Carlyle's  opinion  in  paragraph  12  agree 
with  that  expressed  by  Matthew  Arnold  in  his  essay  on 
Byron  ? 

12.  Condense  the  thought  of  paragraphs  14-17  into 
one. 

13.  Compare  Burns's  description  of  a  snow-storm  (see 
paragraph  19)  with  AVhittier's  handling  of  the  same  sub- 
ject in  "  Snowbound." 

14.  *  Eead  Keats's  ''  Eve  of  St.  Agnes,"  and,  if  possible, 
Matthew  Arnold's  essay  on  Keats,  and  give  your  opinion 
of  Carlyle's  judgment  in  paragraph  21. 

^     15.  What  are  the  qualities  named  by  Carlyle  as  consti-_^_y 
p  t/^  tuting  the  excellence  of  Burns's  writings?     (Part  III.)   ^V^^r 
16.  *  What  points  of  likeness  can  you  discover  between 
Burns's  poems,  as  described  by  Carlyle,  and  Whittier's? 
(Length  optional.) 
I  a/    17.  What  is  Carlyle's  judgment    as    to   the   merit   of 
7^'  Burns's  individual  poems  ?     (Paragraphs  30-34.) 

18.  What  was  Burns's   influence    on  the  literature   of 
"^  Scotland  ?    (Paragraphs  35-37.) 
/         19.  What  was  the  peculiar  character  of  Burns's  man-      i 
hood  according  to  Carlyle?     (Paragraphs  38-40.)  "^ 

20.  State   in   your   own  words   Carlyle's  argument  (in      » 
paragraph  42)  against  the  necessity  of  "  sowing  wild  oats."      ' 

21.  What  impression  did  Burns  make  on  Sir  Walter 
Scott?     (Paragraphs  47-51.) 

/  22.  What  reasons  does  Carlyle  say  (paragraphs  6g-64) 
\  have  been  assigned  by  others  for  Burns's  failure,  and  how 
j  does  he  dispose  of  these  reasons  ? 


liv  SPECIMEN  TOPICS  FOR  WRITTEN  EXERCISES 

23.  Restate  in  your  own  words  the  argument  in  para- 
graphs 65-73,  as  if  it  were  your  own  thought.  (Two  or 
three  paragraphs.) 

24.  How  does  the  '^  Essay  on  Burns"  fulfil  Carlyle's 
theory  of  a  good  biography?     (See  paragraph  5.)    ^z 

25.  State  as  well  as  you  can,  iiT  three  or  lour  hundred 
words,  the  leading  ideas  advanced  in  the  ^' Essay  on 
Burns." 

26.  The  strength  and  vividness  of  Carlyle's  style,  illus- 
trated by  quotations  from  the  '^  Essay  on  Burns."  (Two 
or  three  paragraphs. ) 


SPECIMEN    EXAMINATION  QUESTIONS 

The  following  may  serve  to  indicate  the  sort  of  ques- 
tions that  a  pupil  might  reasonably  be  expected  to 
answer  after  having  completed  a  thorough  study  of  the 
''  Essay  on  Burns."  The  time  available  for  the  examina- 
tion will  determine  the  number  of  questions  to  be  set.  It 
may  be  wiser  to  divide  the  examination,  covering  part  of 
the  ground  in  one  or  two  written  recitations  before  the 
study  of  the  essay  is  completed. 

1.  Thomas  Carlyle  and  the  Essay  on  Burns  : 
Give  a  short  sketch  of  Carlyle 's  life.  What  were  his 
principal  works  ?  State  his  view,  expressed  in  this  essay, 
as  to  the  highest  function  of  biography.  In  what  points 
does  his  account  of  Burns  seem  to  you  to  fulfil  his  ideal  ? 
What  qualities  does  Carlyle  name  as  constituting  the 
excellence  of  Burns's  poetry?  What  does  Carlyle  rank 
as  the  best  of  Burns's  poems  ?  What  does  Carlyle  consider 
to  have  been  the  fatal  defect  in  Burns's  character  ?  What 
does  Carlyle  say  as  to  Burns's  influence  on  the  literature 
of  his  country  ? 

2.  Egbert  Burns  :  Mention  six  of  Burns's  principal 
poems,  and  give  a  brief  account  of  them,  or  quote  at  least 
ten  lines  of  one  of  them.  In  what  kind  of  poetry  was 
Burns  at  his  best  ?  What  is  his  position  in  English  litera- 
ture ?  What  American  poet  resembles  him,  and  in  what 
respects?  Give  a  short  account  of  Burns's  first  visit  to 
Edinburgh. 

3.  Keferences  and  Allusions  :  Explain  the  refer- 
ence or  allusion  in  each  of  the  following  words  or  phrases: 


Ivi  SPECIMEN  EXAMINATION  QUESTIONS 

Arcadian  illusion  (9  3);  the  verses  which  Indignation 
mahes  (26  18);  Northland  Cacus  (27  15);  Thebes,  and  in 
Felops'  line  (27  25);  Limho  (3119);  Jacohitehlood  (34  2); 
lie  at  the  pool  (48  27);  tivice  cursed  (55  26);  poison- 
chalice  (58  6). 

/     4.  Meaning   of  Words:  Explain  the  meaning    (and,  ^ 
ky^  if  necessary  for  that  purpose,  the  etymology)  of  the  fol- 
^         lowing  words:  virtuosos  (10  30);  modica  (48  2);  loadstar  ^ 
\^  ('^1  ^)5   Orazierdom  (52  4);  Martyrology  (58  10);    Ferse- 
^       ^monger  (59  20). 

^      W^       5.  Grammar:  Analyze,  in  such  a  way  as  to  show  clearly 
(nJn)^       the  syntactical  structure,  the  second  sentence  in  paragraph 
53  (48  1-6)  and  the  sentence  forming  paragraph  59  (52  35- 
53  6).     Parse  ivhich  exchange  (48  4),  ivho  (53  4). 


CHRONOLOGICAL   TABLE 


Ivii 


CHRONOLOGICAL   TABLE— BURNS. 


BuRNs's  Life  and  Works. 


1759.  January  25.    Born. 

1766.  Family  removes  to  Mount  Oliphant. 
1774.  Composes  his  first  song. 


1777.  Family  removes  to  Lochlea,  Tarbol- 

ton. 

1778.  Spends  a  summer  at  Kirkoswald,  in 

Carrick. 

1779.  Composes  Winter,   Death  of  Poor 

Mailie,  etc. 
1781.  For  several  months  at  Irvine,  as  a 
flaxdresser. 

1783.  Becomes  a  Freemason. 

1784.  His  father  dies.    First  known  as  a 

local  rhymster.  Takes,  with  his 
brother,  the  farm  of  Mossgiel, 
in  Mauchline. 

1785.  The  Holy  Fair  and  other  satirical 

poems.  Halloween,  The  Cotter's 
Saturday  Night,  etc. 

1786.  First  edition  of  his  poems.    Is  about 

to  go  to  Jamaica.  His  genius  rec- 
ognized.   Edinburgh. 

1787.  Success  at  Edinburgh.    Second  edi- 

tion of  poems.  Travels  in  Scot- 
land. 

1788.  Takes  the  farm  of  Ellisland,  near 

Dumfries.    Marries  Jean  Armour. 

1790.  Is  appointed  Exciseman. 

1791 .  Member  of  the  Dumfries  Volunteers. 

Removes  to  Dumfries. 
1793.  Fourth  edition  of  his  poems.    Repri- 

manded  by  the  Excise  Board. 
1795-96.  In  bad  health. 
1796.  July  21.    Dies. 


Contemporary  Literature. 


1759.  Johnson,  Rasselas.  Sterne,  Tristram 
Shandy  (vols.  i.  and  ii.). 

1762.  Lord  Karnes,  Elements  of  Criticism. 
Macpherson,    Poems    of   Ossian. 

1764.  Johnson's  Club  founded.    Walpole, 

The  Castle  of  Otranto. 

1765.  Percy,  Reliques  of  Ancient  English 

Poetry. 

1766.  Goldsmith,  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield. 

1768.  Gray,  Poems. 

1769.  Robertson,  History  of  Charles  V. 
1773.  Goethe,  GOtz  von  Berlichingen. 

1775.  Burke,  On  Conciliation  with  Ameri- 
ca. Johnson,  Journey  to  the 
Western  Islands  of  Scotland. 

1776.  Adam  Smith,  Wealth  of  Nations. 
Gibbon,  Roman  Empire,  vol.  i. 


1731.  Schiller,  Die  Rauber. 


1785.  Cowper,  The  Task. 


Blake,  Songs  of  Innocence. 


1793.  Wordsworth,  An  Evening  Walk. 

1796.  Coleridge,  Poems.  Scott,  Transla- 
tion of  Burger's  Lenore.  Southey, 
Joan  of  Arc. 


Iviii  CHRONOLOGICAL  TABLE 

CHRONOLOGICAL  TABLE— CARLYLE. 


Carlyle's  Life  and  Works. 


1795.  Born. 

1805.  School  at  Annan. 

1809.  Enters  Edinburgli  University. 


1814.  Appointed  mathematical  teacher  at 

Annan. 
1816.  Appointed  mathematical  teacher  at 

Kirkcaldy. 


1818.  Eeturns  to  Edinburgh. 


1822.  Appointed  tutor  to  the  Bullers. 
1823-24.  Life  of  Schiller  appears  in  Lon 

don  Magazine. 
1824.  Translation  of  Wilhelm  Meister. 

1826.  Married. 

1828.  Removes  to  Craigenputtock.    Essay 

on  Burns. 
1830.  Writes  Sartor  Resartus. 
1834.  Removes  to  Chelsea. 


1837.  French  Revolution, 
lectures. 


First  course  of 


1840.  Chartism. 

1841.  Heroes  and  Hero  Worship. 

1843.  Past  and  Present. 

1845.  Life  and  Letters  of  Oliver  Cromwell 


1850.  Latter-day  Pamphlets. 

1851.  Life  of  John  Sterling. 
1858.  First  two  volumes  of  Frederick  the 

Great. 


1865.  Frederick  the  Great  completed. 

1866.  Lord  Rector's  address  at  Edinburgh, 

Mrs.  Carlyle's  death. 


1881.  Dies. 


Contemporary  Literature. 


S.  Wordsworth  and  Coleridge,  Lyrical 
Ballads. 

1808.  Scott,  Marmion. 

1812.  Byron,   Childe   Harold   (Cantos   i. 
and  ii.). 

1813.  Southey,  Life  of  Nelson. 

1816.  Shelley,  Alastor. 

1817.  Bryant,  Thanatopsis.    Moore,  Lalla 
Rookh. 

1818.  Keats,  Endymion. 

1821.  De    ciuincey,    Confessions    of    an 
Opium-Eater. 

1822.  Lamb,  Essays  of  Elia. 


1824.  Irving,  Tales  of  a  Traveller. 

1825.  Macaulay,  Essay  on  Milton. 
182(5.  Cooper,  Last  of  the  Mohicans. 


1834.  Bancroft,  History  of  the  United 
States,  vol.  i.  Bulwer,  Last  Days 
of  Pompeii. 

1836.  Dickens,  Pickwick  Papers.  Holmes, 
Poems. 

1837.  Hawthorne,  Twice-Told  Tales.  Pres- 
cott,  Ferdinand  and  Isabella. 
Whittier,  Poems. 

1841.  Browning,  Pippa  Passes.  Emerson, 
Essays. 

1843.  Ruskin,  Modern  Painters  (vol.  i.). 

1844.  Elizabeth  Barrett  (Browning), 
Poems. 

1845.  Poe,  The  Raven  and  other  Poems. 

1847.  Longfellow,    Evangeline.      Thack- 

eray,   Vanity    Fair.      Tennyson, 
The  Princess. 

1848.  Lowell,  The  Biglow  Papers. 

1849.  Parkraan,  California  and  the  Ore- 

gon Trail. 


1851.  Spencer,  Social  Statics. 


1859.  Darwin,  Origin  of  Species. 
1861.  George  Eliot,  Silas  Mamer. 

1864.  Swinburne,    Atalanta  in  Culydon. 

Newman,  Apologia. 

1865.  Arnold,  Essays  in  Criticism. 

1866.  Howells,  Venetian  Life. 

1875.  Meredith,  Beauchamp's  Career. 
1878.  Henry  James,  The  Europeans. 
1881.  Stevenson,  Virginibus  Puerisque. 


BURNS ^ 

1.  1.  Ik  the  modern  arrangements  of  society^  it  is  no 
uncommon  thing  that  a  man  of  genius  must,  like  Butler, 
"ask  for  bread  and  receive  a  stone;  "  for,  in  spite  of  our 
grand  maxim  of  supply  and  demand,  it  is  by  no  means  the 
highest  excellence  that  men  are  most  forward  to  recognise.  5 
The  inventor  of  a  spinning-jenny  is  pretty  sure  of  his  re- 
ward in  his  own  day;  but  the  writer  of  a  true  poem,  like  the 
apostle  of  a  true  religion,  is  nearly  as  sure  of  the  contrary. 

4^We  do  not  know  whether  it  is  not  an  aggravation  of  the 
injustice,  that  there  is  generally  a  posthumous  retribution.  10 
Kobert  Burns,  in  the  course  of  Xature,  might  yet  have 
been  living  ;^but  his  short  life  was  spent  in  toil  and  penury  ;2yk 
and  he  died/in  the  prime  of  his  manhood,  miserable  and 
neglected|/and  yet  already  a  brave  mausoleum  shines  over 
his  dust,  and  more  than  one  splendid  monument  has  been  15 
reared  in  other  places  to  his  fame ;  the  street  where  he  lan- 
guished in  poverty  is  called  by  his  name;  the  highest  per- 
sonages in  our  literature  have  been  proud  to  appear  as  his 
commentators  and  admirers;  and  here  is  the  sixth  narra-  t^ 
tive  of  his  Life  that  has  been  given  to  the  world !  20 

2.  Mr.  Lockhart  thinks  it  necessary  to  apologise  for 
this  new  attempt  on  such  a  subject:  but  his  readers,  we 
believe,  will  readily  acquit  him ;  or,  at  worst,  will  censure 
only  the  performance  of  his  task,   not  the  choice  of  it. 

^The  character  of  Burns,  indeed,  is  a  theme  that  cannot  25 
easily  become  either  trite  or  exhausted;  and  will  probably 
gain  rather  than  lose  in  its  dimensions  by  the  distance  to 

*  Edinburgh  Review,  No.  96 :  The  Life  of  Robert  Burns.  By  J. 
G.  Lockhart,  LL.B.      Edinburgh,  1828. 

1 


BURNl 


which  it  is  remGved  by  Time.     No  man,  it  has  been  said, 

/: '.ifeyi  her©  to  his  yalet;  and  this  is  probably  true;  but  the 
fault  is  at  least  as  likely  to  be  the  valet's  as  the  hero's. 
For  it  is  certain,  that  to  the  vulgar  eye  few  things  are 
5  wonderful  that  are  not  distant^  It  is  difficult  for  men  to 
believe  that  the  man,  the  mere  man  whom  they  see,  nay 
perhaps  painfully  feel,  toiling  at  their  side  through  the 
poor  jostlings  of  existence,  can  be  made  of  finer  clay  than 
themselves^  Suppose  that  some   dining  acquaintance   of 

10  Sir  Thomas  Lucy's,  and  neighbour  of  John  a  Combe's,  had 
snatched  an  hour  or  two  from  the  preservation  of  his  game, 
and  written  us  a  Life  of  Shakspeare!  What  dissertations 
should  we  not  have  had, — not  on  ''Hamlet"  and  ''The 
Tempest,"  but  on  the  wool-trade,  and  deer-stealing,  and 

15  the  libel  and  vagrant  laws;  and  how  the  Poacher  became  a 
Player;  and  how  Sir  Thomas  and  Mr.  John  had  Chris- 
tian bowels,  and  did  not  push  him  to  extremities!  In  like 
manner,  we  believe,  with  respect  to  Burns,  that  till  the 
companions  of  his  pilgrimage,  the  Honourable  Excise  Com- 

20  missioners,  and  the  Gentlemen  of  the  Caledonian  Hunt, 
and  the  Dumfries  Aristocracy,  and  all  the  Squires  and 
Earls,  equally  with  the  Ayr  Writers,  and  the  New  and  Old 
Light  Clergy,  whom  he  had  to  do  with,  shall  have  become 
invisible  in  the  darkness  of  the  Past,  or  visible  only  by 

25  light  borrowed  from  Ms  juxtaposition,  it  will  be  difficult 
to  measure  him  by  any  true  standard,  or  to  estimate  what 
he  really  was  and  did,  in  the  eighteenth  century,  for  his 
country  and  the  world.  It  will  be  difficult,  we  say;  but 
still  a  fair  problem  for  literary  historians;  and  repeated  at- 

30  tempts  will  give  us  repeated  approximations. 

3.  His  former  Biographers  have  done  something,  no 
doubt,  but  by  no  means  a  great  deal,  to  assist  us.  Dr. 
Currie  and  Mr.  Walker,  the  principal  of  these  writers, 
have  both,  we  think,  mistaken  one  essentially  important 

35  thing:  Their  own   and  the  Avorld's  true  relation  to  their 


/ 
/ 

BUBN8  •      3 

author,  and  the  style  in  which  it  became  such  men  to 
think  and  to  speak  of  such  a  man.  Dr.  Currie  loved  the 
poet  truly ;  more  perhaps  than  he  avowed  to  his  readers,  or 
even  to  himself;  yet  he  everywhere  introduces  him  with  a 
certain  patronising,  apologetic  air;  as  if  the  polite  public  5 
might  think  it  strange  and  half  unwarrantable  that  he, 
a  man  of  science,  a  scholar  and  gentleman,  should  do  such 
honour  to  a  rustic.  In  all  this,  however,  we  readily  ad- 
mit that  his  fault  was  not  want  of  love,  but  weakness  of 
faith;  and  regret  that  the  first  and  kindest  of  all  our  poet's  10 
biographers  should  not  have  seen  farther,  or  believed  more 
boldly  what  he  saw.  Mr.  Walker  offends  more  deeply  in 
the  same  kind :  and  both  err  alike  in  presenting  us  with  a 
detached  catalogue  of  his  several  supposed  attributes,  vir- 
tues and  vices,  instead  of  a  delineation  of  the  resulting  15 
character  as  a  living  unity.  This,  however,  is  not  paint- 
ing a  portrait;  but  gauging  the  length  and  breadth  of 
the  several  features,  and  jotting  down  their  dimensions  in 
arithmetical  ciphers.  Nay  it  is  not  so  much  as  that :  for 
we  are  yet  to  learn  by  what  arts  or  instruments  the  mind  20 
could  be  so  measured  and  gauged. 

4.  Mr.  Lockhart,  we  are  happy  to  say,  has  avoided  both 
these  errors.  He  uniformly  treats  Burns  as  the  high  and 
remarkable  man  the  public  voice  has  now  pronounced  him 
to  be :  and  in  delineating  him,  he  has  avoided  the  method  25 
of  separate  generalities,  and  rather  sought  for  character- 
istic incidents,  habits,  actions,  sayings;  in  a  word,  for  as- 
pects which  exhibit  the  whole  man,  as  he  looked  and  lived 
among  his  fellows.  The  book  accordingly,  with  all  its 
deficiencies,  gives  more  insight,  we  think,  into  the  true  30 
character  of  Burns,  tlian  any  prior  biography:  though, 
being  written  on  the  very  popular  and  condensed  scheme  of 
an  article  for  ^^Constable's  Miscellany,"  it  has  less  depth 
than  we  could  have  wished  and  expected  from  a  writer  of 
such  power;  and  contains   rather  more,  and  more  multi-  35 


4  BUJRNS 

farious  quotations  than  belong  of  right  to  an  original  pro- 
duction. Indeed,  Mr.  Lockhart's  own  writing  is  generally 
so  good,  so  clear,  direct  and  nervous,  that  w^e  seldom  wish  to 
see  it  making  place  for  another  man's.  However,  the  spirit 
5  of  the  work  is  throughout  candid,  tolerant  and  anxiously 
conciliating;  compliments  and  praises  are  liberally  distri- 
buted, on  all  hands,  to  great  and  small;  and,  as  Mr.  Morris 
Birkbeck  observes  of  the  society  in  the  backwoods  of  Amer- 
ica, ''  the  courtesies  of  polite  life  are  never  lost  sight  of  for 

10  a  moment."  But  there  are  better  things  than  these  in  the 
volume;  and  we  can  safely  testify,  not  only  that  it  is  easily 
and  pleasantly  read  a  first  time,  but  may  even  be  without 
difficulty  read  again. 

5.  JN^evertheless,  we  are  far  from  thinking  that  the  pro- 

15  blem  of  Burns's  Biography  has  yet  been  adequately  solved. 
We  do  not  allude  so  much  to  deficiency  of  facts  or  docu- 
ments,— though  of  these  we  are  still  every  day  receiving 
some  fresh  accession, — as  to  the  limited  and  iniperfect  appli- 
cation of  them  to  the  great  end  of  Biography.  Our  notions 
I  20  upon  this  subject  may  perhaps  appear  extravaganljfDut  if 
Cw)^  an  individual  is  really  of  consequence  enough  to  iA¥e  his 
life  and  character  recorded  for  public  remembrance,  we 
have  always  been  of  opinion  that  the  public  ought  to  be 
made  acquainted  with  all  the  inward  springs  and  relations 

25  of  his  character.^ How  did  tlie  world  and  man's  life,  from 
his  particular  position,  represent  themselves  to  his  mind  ? 
How  did  coexisting  circumstances  modify  him  from  with- 
out; how  did  he  modify  these  from  within?  With  what 
endeavours  and  what  efficacy  rule  over  them;  with  what 

30  resistance  and  what  suffering  sink  under  them?  In  one 
word,  what  and  how  produced  was  the  effect  of  society  on 
him ;  what  and  how  produced  was  his  effect  on  society  ? 
He  who  should  answer  these  questions,  in  regard  to  any 
individual,  would,  as  we  believe,  furnish  a  model  of  per- 

35  fection  in  Biography.  f^Few  individuals,  indeed,  can  de- 


y 


BURNS  5 

serve  such  a  study;  and  many  lives  will  be  written,  and, 
for  the  gratification  of  innocent  curiosity,  ought  to  be 
written,  and  read  and  forgotten,  which  are  not  in  this 
sense  hiographies.  But  Burns,  if  we  mistake  not,  is  one 
of  these  few  individuals;  and  such  a  study,  at  least  with  5 
such  a  result,  he  has  not  yet  obtainecfTj  Our  own  contribu- 
tions to  it,  we  are  aware,  can  be  but  scanty  and  feeble;  but 
we  offer  them  with  good-will,  and  trust  they  may  meet 
with  acceptance  from  those  they  are  intended  for. 

II.  6.  Burns  first  came  upon  the  world  as  a  prodigy;  10 
and  was,  in  that  character,  entertained  by  it,  in  the  usual 
fashion,  with  loud,  vague,  tumultuous   wonder,    speedily 
subsiding  into  censure  and  neglect;  till  his  early  and  most 
mournful  death  again  awakened-  an  enthusiasm  for  him, 
which,  especially  as  there  was  now  nothing  to  be  done,  and  15 
much  to  be  spoken,  has  prolonged  itself  even  to  our  own 
time.     It  is  true,  the  "  nine  days  "  have  long  since  elapsed; 
and  the  very  continuance  of  this  clamour  proves  that  Burns 
was  no  vulgar  wonder.     Accordingly,  even  in  sober  judg- 
ments, where,  as  years  passed  by,  he  has  come  to  rest  more  20 
and  more  exclusively  on  his  own  intrinsic  merits,  and  may 
now  be  well-nigh  shorn  of  that  casual  radiance,  he  appears 
not  only  as  a  true  British  poet,  but  as  one  of  the  most  con- 
siderable British  men  of  the  eighteenth  century.    Let  it  not 
be  objected  that  he  did  little.     He  did  much,  if  we  con-  25 
sider  where  and  how.     If  the  work  performed  was  small, 
we  must  remember  that  he  had  his  very  materials  to  dis- 
cover; for  the  metal  he  worked  in  lay  hid  under  the  desert 
moor,  where  no  eye  but  his  had  guessed  its  existence  ;  and 
we  may  almost  say,  that  with  his  own  hand  he  had   to  30 
construct  the  tools  for  fashioning  it.     For  he  found  him- 
self in  deepest  obscurity,   without   help,  without  instruc- 
tion, without  model;  or  with  models  only  of  the  meanest 
sort.     An  educated  man  stands,  as  it-were,  in  the  midst  of 


6  BUBNS 

a  boundless  arsenal  and  magazine,  filled  with  all  the  wea- 
pons and  engines  Which  man's  skill  has  been  able  to  devise 
from  the  earliest  time;  and  he  works,  accordingly,  with  a 
strength  borrowed  from  all  past  ages.  How  different  is 
5  his  state  who  stands  on  the  outside  of  that  storehouse/and 
feels  that  its  gates  must  be  stormed,  or  remain  forever  shut 
against  him!  His  means  are  the  commonest  and  rudest; 
4he  mere  work  done  is  no  measure  of  his  strength.  A 
dwarf  behind  his  steam-engine  may   remove   mountains; 

10  but  no  dwarf  will  hew  them  down  with  a  pickaxe;  and  he 
must  be  a  Titan  that  hurls  them  abroad  with  his  arms. 

7.  It  is  in  this  last  shape  that  Barns  presents  himself. 
Born  in  an  age  the  most  prosaic  Britain  had  yet  seen,  and 
in  a  condition  the  most  disadvantageous,  where  his  mind, 

15  if  it  accomplished  aught,  must  accomplish  it  under  the 
pressure  of  continual  bodily  toil,  nay  of  penury  and  de- 
sponding apprehension  of  the  worst  evils,  and  with  no 
furtherance  but  such  knowledge  as  dwells  in  a  poor  man's 
hut,  and  the  rhymes  of  a  Ferguson  or  Eamsay  for  his 

20  standard  of  beauty,  he  sinks  not  under  all  these  impedi- 
ments: through  the  fogs  and  darkness  of  that  obscure  re- 
gion, his  lynx  eye  discerns  the  true  relations  of  the  world 
and  human  life;  he  grows  into  intellectual  strength,  and 
trains  himself  into  intellectual  expertness.     Impelled  by 

25  the  expansive  movement  of  his  own  irrepressible  soul,  he 
struggles  forward  into  the  general  view;  and  with  haughty 
modesty  lays  down  before  us,  as  the  fruit  of  his  labour,  a 
gift,  which  Time  has  now  pronounced  imperishable.  Add 
to  all   this,  that  his  darksome  drudging   childhood  and 

30  youth  was  by  far  the  kindliest  era  of  his  whole  life;  and 
died  in  hjf^  tJlirty-g^^^^^^b  J^nv  ^^^^  then  askjif  it 
/be  strange  that  his  poems  are  imperfect,  and  of  small  ex- 
ftent,  or  that  his  genius  attained  no  mastery  in  its  art? 
Alas,  his  Sun  shone  as  through  a  tropical  tornado;  and  the 

3£J  pale  Shadow  of  Death  eclipsed  it  at  noon !  j  Shrouded  in 

1Mb  '- 


BURNS  7 

such  baleful  vapours,  the  genius  of  Burns  was  never  seen 
in  clear  azure  splendourjenlighteniug  the  world:  but  some 
beams  from  it  did,  by  fits,  pierce  through;  and  it  tinted 
those  clouds  with  rainbow  and  orient  colours,  into  a  glory 
and  stern  grandeur,  which  men  silently  gazed  on  with 
wonder  and  tearsT^ 

8.  We  are  anxious  not  to  exaggerate;  for  it  is  exposition 
rather  than  admiration  that  our  readers  require  of  us  here; 
and  yet  to  avoid  some  tendency  to  that  side  is  no  easy  mat- 
ter. We  love  Burns,  and  we  pity  him;  and  love  and  pity  10 
are  prone  to  magnify.  Criticism,  it  is  sometimes  thought, 
should  be  a  cold  business;  we  are  not  so  sure  of  this;  but,  j 
at  all  events,  our  concern  with  Burns  is  not  exclusively 
that  of  critics.     True  and  genial  as  his  poetry  must  appear, 

it  is   not    chiefly  as   a  pn^t    hut  n.«  n.  mnTi     thaf.   lift   iT]|;.P.rP«t«  1 

and  affects  us.  He  was  often  advised  to  write  a  tragedy: 
time  and  means  were  not  lent  him  for  this;  but  through 
life  he  enacted  a  tragedy,  and  one  of  the  deepest.  We 
question  whether  the  world  has  since  witnessed  so  utterly 
sad  a  scene;  whether  Napoleon  himself,  left  to  brawl  with  20 
Sir  Hudson  Lowe,  and  perish  on  his  rock,  ^'amid  the 
melancholy  main,"  presented  to  the  reflecting  mind  such 
a  '/spectacle  of  pity  and  fear"  as  did  this  intrinsically 
nobler,  gentler  and  perhaps  greater  soul,  wasting  itself 
away  in  a  hopeless  struggle  with  base  entanglements,  which  25 
coiled  closer  and  closer  round  him,  till  only  death  opened 
him  an  outlet.  Conquerors  area  class  of  men  with  whom, 
for  most  part,  the  world  could  well  dispense;  nor  can  the 
hard  intellect,  the  unsympathising  loftiness  and  high  but 
selfish  enthusiasm  of  such  persons  inspire  us  in  general  30 
with  any  affection;  at  best  it  may  excite  amazement;  and 
'  their  fall,. like  that  of  a  pyramid,  will  be  beheld  with  a  c§rr 
tain  sadness  and  awe.  But  a  true  Poet,  a  man  in  whose 
heart  resides  some  effluence  of  Wisdom,  some  tone  of 
the  "  Eternal  Melodies,"  is  the  most  precious  gj^t  tljat  cp,n  35 


8  BURNS 

be  bestowed  on  a  generation :  we  see  in  him  a  f reei%  purer 
development  of  whatever  is  noblest  in  ourselves;  his  life  is 
a  rich  lesson  to  us;  and  we  mourn  his  death  as  that  of  a 
benefactor  who  loved  and  taught  us. 
5  9.  Such  a  gift  had  Nature^  in  her  bounty,  bestowed  on 
us  in  Eobert  Burns;  but  with  queenlike  indifference  she 
cast  it  from  her  hand,  like  a  thing  of  no  moment;  and 
it  was  defaced  and  torn  asunder,  as  an  idle  bauble,  before 
we  recognised  it.     To  the  ill-starred  Burns  was  given  the 

10  power  of  making  man's  life  more  venerable,  but  that  of 
wisely  guiding  his  own  life  was  not  given.  Destiny, — for 
so  in  our  ignorance  Ave  must  speak, — his  faults,  the  faults 
of  others,  proved  too  hard  for  him;  and  that  spirit,  which 
might  have  soared  could  it  but  have  walked,  soon  sank  to 

15  the  dust,  its  glorious  faculties  trodden  under  foot  in  the 
blossom;  and  died,  we  may  almost  say,  without  ever  having 
lived.  And  so  kind  and  warm  a  soul;  so  full  of  inborn 
riches,  of  love  to  all  living  and  lifeless  things!  How  his 
heart  flows  out  in  sympathy  over  universal  Nature;  and  in 

20  her  bleakest  pi'ovinces  discerns  a  beauty  and  a  meaning! 
The  '^  Daisy"  falls  not  unheeded  under  his  ploughshare; 
nor  the  ruined  nest  of  that  ^Svee,  cowering,  timorous 
beastie,"  cast  forth,  after  all  its  provident  pains,  to  "  thole 
the   sleety  dribble   and  cranreuch   cauld."      The    ''hoar 

25  visage  "  of  Winter  delights  him;  he  dwells  with  a  sad  and 
oft-returning  fondness  in  these  scenes  of  solemn  desola- 
tion; but  the  voice  of  the  tempest  becomes  an  anthem  to 
his  ears;  he  loves  to  walk  in  the  sounding  woods,  for ''it 
raises  his  thoughts  to  Him  that  loallceth  on  the  wings  of 

oO  the  wind. "  A  true  Poet-soul,  for  it  needs  but  to  be  struck, 
and  the  sound  it  yields  will  be  music!  But  observe  him 
chiefly  as  he  mingles  with  his  brother  men.  What  warm, 
all-comprehending  fellow-feeling;  what  trustful,  boundless 
love;    what  generous  exaggeration  of    the   object  loved! 

35  His  rustic  friend,  his  nut-brown  maiden,  are  no  longer 


BURNS  9 

mean  and  homely,  but  a  hero  and  a  queen,  whom  he  prizes 
as  the  paragons  of  Earth.  The  rough  scenes  of  Scottish 
life,  not  seen  by  him  in  any  Arcadian  illusion,  but  in  the 
rude  contradiction,  in  the  smoke  and  soil  of  a  too  harsh 
reality,  are  still  lovely  to  him :  Poverty  is  indeed  his  com-  5 
panion,  but  Love  also,  and  Courage;  the  simple  feelings, 
the  worth,  the  nobleness,  that  dwell  under  the  straw  roof, 
are  dear  and  venerable  to  his  heart :  and  thus  over  the  low- 
est provinces  of  man's  existence  he  pours  the  glory  of  his 
own  soul ;  and  they  rise,  in  shadow  and  sunshine,  softened  10 
and  brightened  into  a  beauty  which  other  eyes  discern  not 
in  the  highest.  He  has  a  just  self-consciousness,  which 
too  often  degenerates  into  pride;  yet  it  is  a  noble  pride,  for 
defence,  not  for  offence;  no  cold  suspicious  feeling,  but  a 
frank  and  social  one.  The  Peasant  Poet  bears  himself,  15 
we  might  say,  like  a  King  in  exile :  he  is  cast  among  the 
low,  and  feels  himself  equal  to  the  highest;  yet  he  claims 
no  rank,  that  none  may  be  disputed  to  him.  The  forward 
he  can  repel,  the  supercilious  he  can  subdue;  pretensions 
of  wealth  or  ancestry  are  of  no  avail  with  him;  there  is  a  20 
fire  in  that  dark  eye,  under  which  the  "  insolence  of  con- 
descension "  cannot  thrive.  In  his  abasement,  in  his  ex- 
treme need,  he  forgets  not  for  a  moment  the  majesty  of 
Poetry  and  Manhood.  And  yet,  far  as  he  feels  himself 
above  common  men,  he  wanders  not  apart  from  them,  but  25 
mixes  warmly  in  their  interests;  nay  throws  himself  into 
their  arms,  and,  as  it  were,  entreats  them  to  love  him.  It 
is  moving  to  see  how,  in  his  darkest  despondency,  this 
proud  being  still  seeks  relief  from  friendship;  unbosoms 
himself,  often  to  the  unworthy;  and,  amid  tears,  strains  30 
to  his  glowing  heart  a  heart  that  knows  only  the  name  of 
friendship.  And  yet  he  was  "  quick  to  learn;  "  a  man  of 
keen  vision,  before  whom  common  disguises  afforded  no 
concealment.  His  understanding  saw  through  the  hol- 
lowness  even  of  accomplished  deceivers;  but  there  was  a  35 


10  Buni^s 

generous  credulity  in  his  heart.  And  so  did  our  Peasant 
show  himself  among  us;  ''a  soul  like  an  ^olian  harp, 
in  whose  strings  the  vulgar  wind,  as  it  jDassed  through 
them,  changed  itself  into  articulate  melody."  And  this 
5  was  he  for  whom  the  world  found  no  fitter  business  than 
quarrelling  with  smugglers  and  vintners,  computing  excise- 
dues  upon  tallow,  and  gauging  ale-barrels !  In  such  toils 
was  that  mighty  Spirit  sorrowfully  wasted :  and  a  hundred 
years  may  pass  on,  before  another  such  is  given  us  to  waste. 

10  III.  10.  All  that  remains  of  Burns,  the  Writings  he  has 
left,  seem  to  us,  as  we  hinted  above,  no  more  than  a  poor 
mutilated  fraction  of  what  was  in  him;  brief,  broken 
glimpses  of  a  genius  that  could  never  show  itself  complete; 
that  wanted  all  things  for  completeness:  culture,  leisure, 

15  true  effort,  nay  even  length  of  life.  His  poems  are,  with 
scarcely  any  exception,  mere  occasional  effusions;  poured 
forth  with  little  premeditation;  expressing,  by  such  means 
as  offered,  the  passion,  opinion,  or  humour  of  the  hour. 
Never  in  one  instance  was  it  permitted  him  to  grapple  with 

20  any  subject  with  the  full  collection  of  his  strength,  to  fuse 
and  mould  it  in  the  concentrated  fire  of  his  genius.  To 
try  by  the  strict  rules  of  Art  such  imperfect  fragments, 
would  be  at  once  unprofitable  and  unfair.  Nevertheless, 
there  is  something  in  these  poems,  marred  and  defective 

25  as  they  are,  which  forbids  the  most  fastidious  student  of 
poetry  to  pass  them  by.  Some  sort  of  enduring  quality 
they  must  have :  for  after  fifty  years  of  the  wildest  vicissi- 
tudes in  poetic  taste,  they  still  continue  to  be  read ;  nay,  are 
read  more  and  more  eagerly,  more  and  more  extensively; 

30  and  this  not  only  by  literary  virtuosos,  and  that  class  upon 
whom  transitory  causes  operate  most  strongly,  but  by  all 
classes,  down  to  the  most  hard,  unlettered  and  truly  natural 
class,  who  read  little,  and  especially  no  poetry,  except  be- 
cause they  find  pleasure  in  it.     The  grounds  of  so  singular 


BURNS  11 

and  wide  a  popularity,  which  extends,  in  a  literal  sense, 
from  the  palace  to  the  hut,  and  over  all  regions  where 
the  English  tongue  is  spoken,  are  well  worth  inquiring 
into.     After  every  just  deduction,  it  seems  to  imply  some       .  / 
rare  excellence  in  these  works.     What  is  that  excellence  ?      5 

11.  To  answer  this  question  will  not  lead  us  far.     The 
excellence  of  Burns  is,  indeed,  among  the  rarest,  whether 
in  poetry  or  prose;  but,  at  the  same  time,  it  is  plain  and 
easily  recognised:    his  Sincerity,  his  indisputable  air  of 
Truth.      Here  are  no  fabulous  woes  or  joys;    no  hollow  io 
fantastic  sentimentalities;  no  wiredrawn  refinings,  either  in 
thought  or  feeling:  the  passion  that  is  traced  before  us  has 
glowed  in  a  living  heart;  the  opinion  he  utters  has  risen  in 
his  own  understanding,  and  been  a  light  to  his  own  steps. 
He  does  not  write  from  hearsay,  but  from  sight  and  experi-  ilS 
ence;  it  is  the  scenes  that  he  has  lived  and  laboured  amidst, 
that  he  describes :  those  scenes,  rude  and  humble  as  they     v 
are,  have  kindled  beautiful  emotions   in  his   soul,  noble 
thoughts,  and  definite  resolves;  and  he  speaks  forth  what  ' 
js  in  him,  not  from  any  outward  call  of  vanity  or  interest,  20 
but  because  his  heart  is  too  full  to  be  silent.     He  speaks  it 
with  such  melody  and  modulation  as  he  can;  ^'in  homely 
rustic  jingle;"  but  it  is  his  own,  and  genuine.     This  is 
the  grand  secret  for  finding  readers  and  retaining  them : 
let   him   who  would  move  and  convince   others,  be  first  25 
moved  and  convinced  himself.     Horace's  rule,  81  vis  me 
flere,  is  applicable  in  a  wider  sense  than  the  literal  one.     To 
every  poet,  to  every  writer,  we  might  say:  Be  true,  if  you 
would  be  believed.     Let  a  man  but  speak  forth  with  genu- 
ine earnestness  the  thought,  the  emotion,  the  actual  con-  30 
dition  of  his  own  heart;  and  other  men,  so  strangely  are 
we  all  knit  together  by  the  tie  of  sympathy,  must  and  will 
give  heed  to  him.     In  culture,  in  extent  of  view,  we  may 
stand  above  the  speaker,  or  below  him;  but  in  either  case, 
his  words,  if  they  are  earnest  and  sincere,  will  find  some  35 


12  BUEisrs 

response  within  us;  for  in  spite  of  all  casual  varieties  in 
outward  rank  or  inward^  as  face  answers  to  face,  so  does 
the  heart  of  man  to  man. 

12.  This  may  appear  a  very  simple  principle,  and  one 
5  which  Burns  had  little  merit  in  discovering.  True,  the 
discovery  is  easy  enough :  but  the  practical  appliance  is  not 
easy;  is  indeed  the  fundamental  difficulty  which  all  poets 
have  to  strive  with,  and  which  scarcely  one  in  the  hundred 
ever  fairly  surmounts.     A  head  too  dull  to  discriminate 

10  the  true  from  the  false;  a  heart  too  dull  to  love  the  one  at 
all  risks,  and  to  hate  the  other  in  spite  of  all  temptations, 
are  alike  fatal  to  a  writer.  With  either,  or  as  more  com- 
monly happens,  with  both  of  these  deficiencies  combine  a 
love  of  distinction,  a  wish  to  be  original,  which  is  seldom 

15  wanting,  and  we  have  Aifectation,  the  bane  of  literature, 
as  Cant,  its  elder  brother,  is  of  morals.  How  of  fcen  does 
the  one  and  the  other  front  us,  in  poetry,  as  in  life !  Great 
poets  themselves  are  not  always  free  of  this  vice ;  nay,  it  is 
precisely  on  a  certain  sort  and  degree  of  greatness  that  it  is 

20  most  commonly  ingrafted.  A  strong  effort  after  excellence 
will  sometimes  solace  itself  with  a  mere  shadow  of  success; 
he  who  has  much  to  unfold,  will  sometimes  unfold  it  im- 
perfectly. Byron,  for  instance,  was  no  common  man :  yet 
if  we  examine  his  poetry  with  this  view,  we  shall  find  it 

25  far  enough  from  faultless.  Generally  speaking,  we  should 
say  that  it  is  not  true.  He  refreshes  us,  not  with  the  divine 
fountain,  but  too  often  with  vulgar  strong  waters,  stimu- 
lating indeed  to  the  taste,  but  soon  ending  in  dislike,  or 
even  nausea.     Are  his  Harolds  and  Giaours,  we  would  ask, 

oO  real  men  ;  we  mean,  poetically  consistent  and  conceiv- 
able men  ?  Do  not  these  characters,  does  not  the  character 
of  their  author,  which  more  or  less  shines  through  them 
all,  rather  appear  a  thing  put  on  for  the  occasion;  no 
natural  or  possible  mode  of  being,  but  something  intended 

35  to  look  much  grander   than  nature  ?     Surely,  all   these 


BURNS  13 

stormful  agonies,  this  volcanic  heroism,  superhuman  con- 
tempt and  moody  desperation,  with  so  much  scowling,  and 
teeth-gnashing,  and  other  sulphurous  humoar,  is  more  like 
the  brawling  of  a  player  in  some  paltry  tragedy,  which  is 
to  last  three  hours,  than  the  bearing  of  a  man  in  the  busi-  5 
ness  of  life,  which  is  to  last  threescore  and  ten  years.  To 
our  minds  there  is  a  taint  of  this  sort,  something  which  we 
should  call  theatrical,  false,  affected,  in  every  one  of  these 
otherwise  so  powerful  pieces.  Perhaps  ''Don  Juan,"  es- 
pecially the  latter  parts  of  it,  is  the  only  thing  approach-  10 
ing  to  a  sificere  work,  he  ever  wrote;  the  only  work  where 
he  showed  himself,  in  any  measure,  as  he  was;  and  seemed 
so  intent  on  his  subject  as,  for  moments,  to  forget  him- 
self. Yet  Byron  hated  this  vice;  we  believe,  heartily  de- 
tested it:  nay  he  had  declared  formal  war  against  it  in  15 
words.  So  difficult  is  it  even  for  the  strongest  to  make 
this  primary  attainment,  which  might  seem  the  simplest 
of  all:  to  read  its  own  consciousness  without  mistakes, 
without  errors  involuntary  or  wilful !  We  recollect  no  poet 
of  Burns's  susceptibility  who  comes  before  us  from  the  first,  20 
and  abides  with  us  to  the  last,  with  such  a  total  want  of 
affectation.  He  is  an  honest  man,  and  an  honest  writer. 
In  his  successes  and  his  failures,  in  his  greatness  and  his 
littleness,  he  is  ever  clear,  simple,  true,  and  glitters  with 
no  lustre  but  his  own.  We  reckon  this  to  be  a  great  vir-  25 
tue;  to  be,  in  fact,  the  root  of  most  other  virtues,  literary 
as  well  as  moral. 

13.  Here,  however,  let  us  say,  it  is  to  the  Poetry  of  ^ 
Burns  that  we  now  allude;  to  those  writings  which  he 
had  time  to  meditate,  and  where  no  special  reason  existed  30 
to  warp  his  critical  feeling,  or  obstruct  his  endeavour  to 
fulfil  it.  Certain  of  his  Letters,  and  other  fractions  of 
prose  composition,  by  no  means  deserve  this  praise.  Here, 
doubtless,  there  is  not  the  same  natural  truth  of  style;  but 
on  the  contrary,   something  not  only  stiff,  but  strained  35 


14  BURNS 

and  twisted;  a  certain  high-flown  inflated  tone;  the  stilt- 
ing empliasis  of  which  contrasts  ill  with  the  firmness  and 
rugged  simplicity  of  even  his  poorest  verses.  Thus  no 
man,  it  would  appear,  is  altogether  unaffected.  Does  not 
5  Shakspeare  himself  sometimes  premeditate  the  sheerestbom- 
bast!  But  even  with  regard  to  these  Letters  of  Burns,  it  is 
but  fair  to  state  that  he  had  tw^o  excuses.  The  first  was 
his  comparative  deficiency  in  language.  Burns,  though 
for  most   part  he  writes   with   singular  force   and   even 

10  gracefulness,  is  not  master  of  English  prose,  as  he  is  of 
Scottish  verse;  not  master  of  it,  we  mean,  in  proportion 
to  the  depth  and  vehemence  of  his  matter.  These  Let- 
ters strike  us  as  the  effort  of  a  man  to  express  something 
which  he  has  no  organ  fit  for  expressing.     But  a  second 

15  and  weightier  excuse  is  to  be  found  in  the  peculiarity  of 
Burns's  social  rank.  His  correspondents  are  often  men 
whose  relation  to  him  he  has  never  accurately  ascertained; 
whom  therefore  he  is  either  forearming  himself  against, 
or  else  unconsciously  flattering,  by  adopting  the  style  he 

20  thinks  will  please  them.  At  all  events  we  should  remem- 
ber that  these  faults,  even  in  his  Letters,  are  not  the  rule, 
but  the  exception.  AYhenever  he  writes,  as  one  would 
ever  wish  to  do,  to  trusted  friends  and  on  real  interests, 
his  style  becomes  simple,  vigorous,  expressive,  sometimes 

25  even  beautiful.  His  letters  to  Mrs.  Dunlop  are  uniformly 
excellent. 

14.  But  w^e  return  to  his  Poetry.  In  addition  to  its  Sin- 
cerity, it  has  another  peculiar  merit,  which  indeed  is  but  a 
mode,  or  perhaps   a  means,  of  the  foregoing:  this  displays 

30  itself  in  his  choice  of  subjects;  or  rather  in  his  indifference 
as  to  subjects,  and  the  power  he  has  of  making -all  subjects, 
interesting.  The  ordinary  poet,  like  the  ordinary  man7  is 
forever  seeking  in  external  circumstances  the  help  which 
can  be  found  only  in  himself.     In  what  is  familiar  and 

35  near  at  hand,  he  discerns  no  form  or  comeliness:  home  is 


BURNS  15 

not  poetical  but  prosaic;  it  is  in  some  past,  distant,  con- 
ventional heroic  world,  that  poetry  resides;  were  he  there 
and  not  here,  were  he  thns  and  not  so,  it  would  be  well 
with  him.  Hence  our  innumerable  host  of  rose-coloured 
Novels  and  iron-mailed  Epics,  with  their  locality  not  on  5 
the  Earth,  but  somewhere  nearer  to  the  Moon.  Hence  our 
Virgins  of  the  Sun,  and  our  Knights  of  the  Cross,  mali- 
cious Saracens  in  turbans,  and  copper-coloured  Chiefs  in 
wampum,  and  so  many  other  truculent  figures  from  the 
heroic  times  or  the  heroic  climates,  who  on  all  hands  swarm  10 
in  our  poetry.  Peace  be  with  them !  But  yet,  as  a  great 
moralist  proposed  preaching  to  the  men  of  this  century,  so 
would  we  fain  preach  to  the  poets,  "  a  sermon  on  the  duty 
of  staying  at  home. "  Let  them  be  sure  that  heroic  ages 
and  heroic  climates  can  do  little  for  them.  That  form  of  15 
life  has  attraction  for  us,  less  because  it  is  better  or  nobler 
than  our  own,  than  simply  because  it  is  different;  and 
even  this  attraction  must  be  of  the  most  transient  sort. 
For  will  not  our  own  age,  one  day,  be  an  ancient  one; 
and  have  as  quaint  a  costume  as  the  rest;  not  contrasted  20 
with  the  rest,  therefore,  but  ranked  along  with  them,  in 
respect  of  quaintness  ?  Does  Homer  interest  us  now,  be- 
cause he  wrote  of  what  passed  beyond  his  native  Greece, 
and  two  centuries  before  he  was  born;  or  because  he  wrote 
what  passed  in  God's  world,  and  in  the  heart  of  man,  which  25 
is  the  same  after  thirty  centuries  ?  Let  our  poets  look  to 
this:  is  their  feeling  really  finer,  truer,  and  their  vision 
deeper  than  that  of  other  men, — they  have  nothing  to  fear, 
even  from  the  humblest  subject;  is  it  not  so, — they  have 
nothing  to  hope,  but  an  ephemeral  favour,  even  from  the  30 
highest. 

15.  The  poet,  we  imagine,  can  never  have  far  to  seek  for. 
a  subject:  the  elements  of  his  art  are  in  him,  and  around 
him  on  every  liand ;  for  him  the  Ideal  world  is  not  remote 
from  th^ Actual,  but  under  it  and  within  it:  nay,  he  is  a  35 


16  BURNS 

poet,  precisely  because  he  can  discern  it  there.  Wherever 
there  is  a  sky  above  him,  and  a  world  around  him,  the  poet 
is  in  his  place;  for  here  too  is  man's  existence,  with  its 
infinite  longings  and  small  acquirings;  its  ever-thwarted, 
5  ever-renewed  endeavours;  its  unspeakable  aspirations,  its 
fears  and  hopes  that  wander  through  Eternity;  and  all  the 
mystery  of  brightness  and  of  gloom  that  it  was  ever  made 
of,  in  any  age  or  climate,  since  man  first  began  to  live.  Is 
there  not  the  fifth  act  of  a  Tragedy  in  every  death-bed, 

10  though  it  were  a  peasant's  and  a  bed  of  heath  ?  And  are 
wooings  and  weddings  obsolete,  that  there  can  be  Comedy 
no  longer  ?  Or  are  men  suddenly  grown  wise,  that  Laugh- 
ter must  no  longer  shake  his  sides,  but  be  cheated  of  his 
Farce?     Man's  life  and  nature  is,  as  it  was,  and  as  it  will 

15  ever  be.  But  the  poet  must  have  an  eye  to  read  these 
things,  and  a  heart  to  understand  them ;  or  they  come  and 
pass  away  before  him  in  vain.  He  is  a  vates,  a  seer;  a  gift 
of  vision  has  been  given  him.  Has  life  no  meanings  for 
him,  which  another  cannot  equally  decipher;  then  he  is  no 

20  poet,  and  Delphi  itself  will  not  make  him  one. 

16.  In  this  respect,  Burns,  though  not  perhaps  abso- 
lutely a  great  poet,  better  manifests  his  capability,  better 
proves  the  truth  of  his  genius,  than  if  he  had  by  his  own 
strength  kept  the  whole  Minerva  Press  going,  to  the  end 

25  of  his  literary  course.  He  shows  himself  at  least  a  poet  of 
Nature's  own  making;  and  Nature,  after  all,  is  still  the 
grand  agent  in  making  poets.  We  often  hear  of  this  and 
the  other  external  condition  being  requisite  for  the  exist- 
ence of  a  poet.     Sometimes  it  is  a  certain  sort  of  training; 

30  he  must  have  studied  certain  things,  studied  for  instance 
"  the  elder  dramatists,"  and  so  learned  a  poetic  language; 
as  if  poetry  lay  in  the  tongue,  not  in  the  heart.  At  other 
times  we  are  told  he  must  be  bred  in  a  certain  rank,  and 
must  be  on  a  confidential  footing  with  the  higher  classes; 

35  because,  above  all  things,  he  must  see  the  world.     As  to 


BUBNS  17 

seeing  the  world,  we  apprehend  this  will  cause  him  little 
difficulty,  if  he  have  but  eyesight  to  see  it  with.  Without 
eyesight,  indeed,  the  task  might  be  hard.  The  blind  or 
the  purblind  man  ' '  travels  from  Dan  to  Beersheba,  and 
finds  it  all  barren."  But  happily  every  poet  is  born  in  5 
the  world ;  and  sees  it,  with  or  against  his  will,  every  day 
and  every  hour  he  lives.  The  mysterious  workmanship  of 
man's  heart,  the  true  light  and  the  inscrutable  darkness  of 
man's  destiny,  reveal  themselves  not  only  in  capital  cities 
and  crowded  saloons,  but  in  every  hut  and  hamlet  where  men  10 
have  their  abode.  Nay,  do  not  the  elements  of  all  human 
virtues  and  all  human  vices;  the  passions  at  once  of  a 
Borgia  and  of  a  Luther,  lie  written,  in  stronger  or  fainter 
lines,  in  the  consciousness  of  every  individual  bosom,  that 
has  practised  honest  self-examination?  Truly  this  same  15 
world  may  be  seen  in  Mossgiel  and  Tarbolton,  if  we  look 
well,  as  clearly  as  it  ever  came  to  light  in  Crockford's,  or 
the  Tuileries  itself. 

17.  But  sometimes  still  harder  requisitions  are  laid  on 
the  poor  aspirant  to  poetry;  for  it  is  hinted  that  he  should  20 
have  been  horn  two  centuries  ago;    inasmuch  as  poetry, 
about  that  date,  vanished  from  the  earth,  and  became  no 
longer  attainable  by  men !     Such  cobweb  speculations  have, 
now  and  then,  overhung  the  field  of  literature;  but  they 
obstruct  not  the  growth  of  any  plant  there:  the  Shak-  25 
speare  or  the  Burns,  unconsciously  and  merely  as  he  walks 
onward,  silently  brushes  them  away.    Is  not  every  genius  an 
impossibility  till  he  appear  ?    Why  do  we  call  him  new  and 
original,  if  we  saw  where  his  marble  was  lying,  and  what 
fabric  he  could  rear  from  it  ?     It  is  not  the  material  but  30 
the  workman  that  is  wanting.     It  is  not  the  ^^rk  place 
that  hinders,  but  the  dim  eye.     A  Scottish  peasant's  life 
was  the  meanest  and  rudest  of  all  lives,  till  Burns  became 
a  poet  in  it,  and  a  poet  of  it ;  found  it  a  man's  life,  and 
therefore  significant  to  men.     A  thousand  battle-fields  re-  35 
2 


18  BURNS 

main  unsung;  but  the  Wounded  Hare  has  not  perished 
without  its  memorial;  a  balm  of  mercy  yet  breathes  on  us 
from  its  dumb  agonies,  because  a  poet  was  there.  Our 
Hallotveen  had  passed  and  repassed,  in  rude  awe  and 
5  laughter,  since  the  era  of  the  Druids;  but  no  Theocritus,  till 
Burns,  discerned  in  it  the  materials  of  a  Scottish  Idyl : 
neither  was  the  Holy  Fair  any  Council  of  Trent  or  Eo- 
man  Jubilee  ;  but  nevertheless.  Superstition  and  Hypocrisy 
and  Fun  having  been  propitious  to  him,  in  this   man's 

10  hand  it  became  a  poem,  instinct  with  satire  and  genuine 
comic  life.  Let  but  the  true  poet  be  given  us,  we  repeat 
it,  place  him  where  and  how  you  will,  and  true  poetry  will 
not  be  wanting. 

18.  Independently  of  the  essential  gift  of  poetic  feeling, 

15  as  we  have  now  attempted  to  describe  it,  a  certain  rugged 
sterling  worth  pervades  whatever  Burns  has  written;  a  vir- 
tue, as  of  green  fields  and  mountain  breezes,  dwells  in  his 
poetry;  it  is  redolent  of  natural  life  and  hardy  natural 
men.     There  is  a  decisive  strength  in  him,  and  yet  a  sweet 

20  native  gracefulness:  he  is  tender,  he  is  vehement,  yet  with- 
out constraint  or  too  visible  effort;  he  melts  the  heart,  or 
inflames  it,  with  a  power  which  seems  habitual  and  fami- 
liar to  him.  We  see  that  in  this  man  there  was  the  gentle- 
ness, the  trembling  pity  of  a  woman,  with  the  deep  earn- 

25  estness,  the  force  and  passionate  ardour  of  a  hero.  Tears 
lie  in  him,  and  consuming  fire;  as  lightning  lurks  in  the 
drops  of  the  summer  cloud.  He  has  a  resonance  in  his 
bosom  for  every  note  of  human  feeling;  the  high  and  the 
low,  the  sad,  the  ludicrous,  the  joyful,  are  welcome  in  their 

30  turns  to  his  ^ lightly- moved  and  all-conceiving  spirit." 
And  observe  with  what  a  fierce  prompt  force  he  grasps  his 
subject,  be  it  what  it  may !  How  he  fixes,  as  it  were,  the  full 
image  of  the  matter  in  his  eye;  full  and  clear  in  every 
lineament;   and  catches  the  real  type  and  essence  of  it, 

35  amid  a  thousand  accidents  and  superficial  circumstances. 


BUIiJVS  19 

no  one  of  which  misleads  him!  Is  ifc  of  reason;  some  truth 
to  be  discovered  ?  'No  sophistry,  no  vain  surface-logic  de- 
tains him;  quick,  resolute,  unerring,  he  pierces  through 
into  the  marrow  of  the  question;  and  speaks  his  verdict 
with   an   emphasis   that   cannot  be   forgotten.      Is   it  of    5 

description;   some   visual  object  to  be  represented?     No 

poet  of  any  age  or  nation  is  more  graphic  than  Burns:- 
the  cliaraCteristlc  features  disclose  themselves  to  him  at  a 
glance;  three  lines  from  his  hand,  and  we  have  a  likeness. 
And,  in  that  rough  dialect,  in  that  rude,  often  awkward  10 
metre,  so  clear  and  definite  a  likeness !  It  seems  a  draughts- 
man working  with  a  burnt  stick;  and  yet  the  burin  of  a 
Eetzsch  is  not  more  expressive  or  exact. 

19.  Of  this  last  excellence,  the  plainest  and  most  com- 
prehensive of  all,  being  indeed  the  root  and  foundation  of  15 
every  sort  of  talent,  poetical  or  intellectual,  we  could  pro- 
duce innumerable  instances  from  the  writings  of  Burns. 
Take  these  glimpses  of  a  snow-storm  from  his  ''Winter 
Night  "  (the  italics  are  ours) ; 

When  biting  Boreas,  fell  and  doure,  20 

Sharp  shivers  thro'  the  leafless  bow'r, 
And  Phoebus  gies  a  short-livd  glowr 

Far  south  the  lift^ 
Dim-darkening  thro"  the  flaky  shoio^r 

Or  whirling  drift :  25 

'Ae  night  tlie  storm  the  steeples  rock'd, 
Poor  labour  sweet  in  sleep  Avas  lock'd, 
While  burns  wi^  snawy  wreeths  wpchoTc'd 

Wild-eddying  swliirl^ 
Or  thro'  the  mining  outlet  bock'd,  80 

Down  headlong  hurl. 

Are  there  not  "  descriptive  touches  "  here  ?  The  describer 
saio  this  thing;  the  essential  feature  and  true  likeness  of 
every  circumstance  in  it;  saw,  and  not  with  the  eye  only. 


20  BUENS 

''Poor  labour  locked  in  sweet  sleep;"  the  dead  stillness 
of  man^  unconscious,  vanquished,  yet  not  unprotected, 
while  such  strife  of  the  material  elements  rages,  and  seems 
to  reign  supreme  in  loneliness :  this  is  of  the  heart  as  well 
5  as  of  the  eye! — Look  also  at  his  image  of  a  thaw,  and 
prophesied  fall  of  the  "  Auld  Brig:  " 

When  heavy,  dark,  continued,  a'-day  rains 

Wi'  deepening  deluges  o'erflow  the  plains; 

When  from  the  hills  where  springs  the  brawling  Coil, 
10  Or  stately  Lugar's  mossy  fountains  boil, 

Or  where  the  Greenock  winds  his  rnoorland  course, 

Or  haunted  Garpal  "^  draws  his  feehle  source, 

Arous'd  by  blustering  winds  and  spotting  thowes, 

In  mony  a  torrent  down  Ms  snaw-lroo  roices  ; 
15  "While  crashing  ice^  home  on  the  roaring  speat, 

Sweeps  dams  and  mills  and  trigs  a*  to  the  gate; 

And  from  Glenbuck  down  to  the  Rottonkey, 

Auld  Ayr  is  just  one  lengthen'd  tumbling  sea; 

Then  down  ye'll  hurl,  Deil  nor  ye  never  rise  ! 
20  And  dash  the  gtimlie  jaups  up  to  the  pouring  sTcies. 

The  last  line  is  in  itself  a  Poussin-picture  of  that  Deluge! 
The  welkin  has,  as  it  were,  bent  down  with  its  weight; 
the  "  gumiie  jaups  "  and  the  "  pouring  skies  "  are  mingled 
together;  it  is  a  world  of  rain  and  ruin. — In  respect  of 

25  mere  clearness  and  minute  fidelity,  the  ''Farmer's"  com- 
mendation of  his  "  Auld  Mare,"  in  plough  or  in  cart,  may 
vie  with  Homer's  Smithy  of  the  Cyclops,  or  yoking  of 
Priam's  Chariot.  Nor  have  we  forgotten  stout  "  Burn- 
the-wind  "  and  his  brawny  customers,  inspired  by  "  Scotch 

30  Drink:"  but  it  is  needless  to  multiply  examples.  One 
other  trait  of  a  much  finer  sort  we  select  from  multitudes 
of  such  among  his  "Songs."  It  gives,  in  a  single  line, 
to  the  saddest  feeling  the  saddest  environment  and  local 
habitation : 

2  Fahulosus  Hydaspes  ! — Carlyle's  note. 


BURNS  21 

The  pale  Moon  is  setting  beyond  the  white  wave, 
And  Time  is  setting  wV  me,  0 ; 
Farewell,  false  friends  !  false  lover,  farewell  1 
I'll  nae  mair  trouble  them  nor  thee,  O. 


20.  This  clearness  of  sight  we  have  called  the  founda-    5 
tion  of  all  talent;  for  in  fact,  unless  we  see  our  object,  how 
shall  we  know  how  to  place  or  prize  it,  in  our  understand- 
ing, our  imagination,  our  affections  ?     Yet  it  is  not  in  it- 
self, perhaps,  a  very  high  excellence;  but  capable  of  being 
united  indifferently  with  the  strongest,  or  with  ordinary  10 
power.      Homer   surpasses   all   men   in  this  quality:  but 
strangely  enough,  at  no  great  distance  below  him  are  Eich- 
ardson  and  Defoe.     It  belongs,  in  truth,  to  what  is  called  a 
lively  mind;  and  gives  no  sure  indication  of  the  higher  en- 
dowments that  may  exist  along  with  it.     In  all  the  three  15 
cases  we  have  mentioned,  it  is  combined  with  great  gar- 
rulity; their  descriptions  are  detailed,  ample  and  lovingly 
exact;  Homer's  fire  bursts   through,  from   time  to  time, 

as  if  by  accident;  but  Defoe  and  Kichardson  have  no  fire. 
Burns,  again,  is  not  more  distinguished  by  the  clearness  30 
than  by  the  impetuous  force  of  his  conceptions.     Of  the 
strength,  the  piercing  emphasis  with  which  he  thought, 
his  emphasis  of  expression  may  give  a  humble  but  the 
readiest  proof.      Who  ever  uttered  sharper  sayings  than 
his;  words  more  memorable,  now  by  their  burning  vehe-  25 
mence,  now  by  their  cool  vigour  and  laconic  pith  ?     A 
single  phrase  depicts  a  whole  subject,  a  whole  scene.      We 
hear  of  ''a  gentleman  that  derived  his  patent  of  nobility 
direct  from  Almighty  God."     Our  Scottish  forefathers  in 
the  battle-field  struggled  forward  "  red-iuat-shod :  "  in  this  30 
one  word  a  full  vision  of  horror  and  carnage,  perhaps  too 
frightfully  accurate  for  Art ! 

21.  In  fact,  one  of  the  leading  features  in  the  mind  of 
Burns  is  this  vigour  of  his  strictly  intellectual  perceptions. 


22  BURNS 

A  resolute  force  is  ever  visible  in  his  judgments,  and  in 
his  feelings  and  volitions.  Professor  Stewart  says  of  him, 
with  some  surprise:  ''All  the  faculties  of  Burns's  mind 
were,  as  far  as  I  could  judge,  equally  vigorous;  and  his 
5  predilection  for  poetry  was  rather  the  result  of  his  own 
enthusiastic  and  impassioned  temper,  than  of  a  genius  ex- 
clusively adapted  to  that  species  of  composition.  From 
his  conversation  I  should  have  pronounced  him  to  be  fitted 
to  excel  in  whatever  walk  of  ambition  he  had  chosen  to 

10  exert  his  abilities."  But  this,  if  we  mistake  not,  is  at  all 
times  the  very  essence  of  a  truly  poetical  endowment. 
Poetry,  except  in  such  cases  as  that  of  Keats,  where  the 
whole  consists  in  a  weak-eyed  maudlin  sensibility,  and  a 
certain  vague  random  tunefulness  of  nature,  is  no  sepa- 

15  rate  faculty,  no  organ  which  can  be  superadded  to  the  rest, 
or  disjoined  from  them;  but  rather  the  result  of  their  gen- 
eral harmony  and  completion.  The  feelings,  the  gifts  that 
exist  in  the  Poet  are  those  that  exist,  with  more  or  less 
development,  in  every  human  soul:  the  imagination,  which 

20  shudders  at  the  Hell  of  Dante,  is  the  same  faculty,  weaker 
in  degree,  which  called  that  picture  into  being.  How 
does  the  Poet  speak  to  men,  with  power,  but  by  being  still 
more  a  man  than  they  ?  Shakspeare,  it  has  been  well  ob- 
served, in  the  planning  and  completing  of  his  tragedies, 

25  has  shown  an  Understanding,  were  it  nothing  more,  which 
might  have  governed  states,  or  indited  a  "Novum  Orga- 
numy  AVhat  Burns's  force  of  understanding  may  have 
been,  we  have  less  means  of  judging:  it  had  to  dwell  among 
the  humblest  objects;  never  saw  Philosophy;  never  rose, 

30  except  by  natural  effort  and  for  short  intervals,  into  the 
region  of  great  ideas.  Nevertheless,  sufficient  indication, 
if  no  proof  sufficient,  remains  for  us  in  his  works:  we  dis- 
cern the  brawny  movements  of  a  gigantic  though  untu- 
tored strength;  and  can  understand  how,  in  conversation, 

35  his  quick  sure  insight  into  men  and  things  may,  as  much 


BURNS  23 

as  aiiglit  else  about  him,  have  amazed  the  best  thinkers  of 
his  time  and  country. 

22.  But,  unless  we  mistake,  the  intellectual  gift  of 
Burns  is  fine  as  well  as  strong.  The  more  delicate  rela- 
tions of  things  could  not  well  have  escaped  his  eye,  for  they  5 
were  intimately  present  to  his  heart.  The  logic  of  the 
senate  and  the  forum  is  indispensable,  but  not  all-suffi- 
cient; nay  perhaps  the  highest  Truth  is  that  which  will 
the  most  certainly  elude  it.  For  this  logic  works  by 
words,  and  "  tha  highest,"  it  has  been  said,  ''cannot  be  10 
expressed  in  words. ' '  We  are  not  without  tokens  of  an 
openness  for  this  higher  truth  also,  of  a  keen  though  un- 
cultivated sense  for  it,  having  existed  in  Burns.  Mr. 
Stewart,  it  will  be  remembered,  '^  wonders,"  in  the  pas- 
sage above  quoted,  that  Burns  had  formed  some  distinct  15 
conception  of  the '' doctrine  of  association."  We  rather 
think  that  far  subtler  things  than  the  doctrine  of  associa- 
tion had  from  of  old  been  familiar  to  him.  Here  for 
instance : 

23.  "We  know  nothing,"  tluis  writes  he,  *'  or  next  to  nothing,  20 
of  the  structure  of  our  souls,  so  we  cannot  account  for  those 
seeming  caprices  in  them,  that  one  should  be  particularly  pleased 
witli  this  thing,  or  struck  with  that,  which,  on  minds  of  a  dif- 
ferent cast,  makes  no  extraordinary  impression.  I  have  some 
favourite  flowers  in  spring,  among  which  are  the  mountain-daisy,  25 
tlie  liarebell,  the  foxglove,  the  wild-brier  rose,  the  budding  birch, 
and  the  hoary  liawthorn,  that  I  view  and  hang  over  with  particu- 
lar delight.     I  never  hear  the  loud  solitaiy  whistle  of  the  curlew 

in  a  summer  noon,  or  the  wild  mixing  cadence  of  a  troop  of  gray 
plover  in  an  autumnal  morning,  without  feeling  an  elevation  of  30 
soul  like  the  enthusiasm  of  devotion  or  poetry.  Tell  me,  my  dear 
friend,  to  what  can  this  be  owing  ?  Are  we  apiece  of  machinery, 
which,  like  the  ^olian  harp,  passive,  takes  the  impression  of 
tiie  ])assing  accident  ;  or  do  these  workings  argue  something 
witliin  us  above  the  trodden  clod  ?  I  own  myself  partial  to  such  35 
proofs  of  those  awful  and  important  realities:  a  God  that  made 


\y 


24  BUENS 

all  things,  man's  immaterial  and  immortal  nature,  and  a  world  of 
weal  or  wo  beyond  death  and  the  grave." 


24.  Force  and  fineness  of  understanding  are  often  spoken 
of  as  something  different  from  general  force  and  fineness  of 
5  nature,  as  something  partly  independent  of  them.  The 
necessities  of  language  so  require  it;  but  in  truth  these 
qualities  are  not  distinct  and  independent :  except  in  spe- 
cial cases,  and  from  special  causes,  they  ever  go  together. 
A  man  of  strong  understanding  is   generally  a  man   of 

10  strong  character;  neither  is  delicacy  in  the  one  kind  often 

divided  from  delicacy  in  the  other.     JSTo  one,  at  all  events, 

I  is  ignorant  that  in  the  Poetry  of  Burns  keenness  of  insight 

keeps  pace  with  keenness  of  feeling;  that  his  light  is  not 

more  pervading  than  his  warmth.     He  is  a  man  of  the  most 

15  impassioned  temper;  with  passions  not  strong  only,  but  no- 
ble, and  of  the  sort  in  which  great  virtues  and  great  poems 
take  their  rise.  It  is  reverence,  it  is  love  towards  all  Na- 
ture that  inspires  him,  that  opens  his  eyes  to  its  beauty, 
and  makes  heart  and  voice  eloquent  in  its  praise.     There 

20  is  a  true  old  saying,  that  '^  Love  furthers  knowledge:"  but 
above  all,  it  is  the  living  essence  of  that  knowledge  which 
makes  poets;  the  first  principle  of  its  existence,  increase, 
activity.  Of  Burns's  fervid  affection,  his  generous  all- 
embracing  Love,  we  have  spoken  already,  as  of  the  grand 

25  distinction  of  his  nature,  seen  equally  in  word  and  deed, 
in  his  Life  and  in  his  Writings,,^  It  were  easy  to  multiply 
examples.  Not  man  only,  but  all  that  environs  man  in 
the  material  and  moral  universe,  is  lovely  in  his  sight: 
^Hhe  hoary  hawthorn,"  the  'Hroop  of  gray  plover,"  the 

30  *^ solitary  curlew,"  all  are  dear  to  him;  all  live  in  this 
Earth  along  with  him,  and  to  all  he  is  knit  as  in  myste- 
rious brotherhood.  How  touching  is  it,  for  instance,  that, 
amidst  the  gloom  of  personal  misery,  brooding  over  the 
wintry  desolation  without  him  and  within  him,  he  thinks 


BURNS  25 

of  the  '^  ourie  cattle  "  and  "  silly  sheep,"  and  their  suffer- 
ings in  the  pitiless  storm ! 

I  tliought  me  on  the  ourie  cattle, 
Or  silly  sheep,  wlia  bide  this  brattle 

O'  wintry  war,  5 

Or  thro'  the  drift,  deep-lairing,  sprattle, 

Beneath  a  scaur. 
Ilk  happing  bird,  wee  helpless  thing, 
That  in  the  merry  months  o'  spring 
Delighted  me  to  hear  thee  sing,  10 

What  comes  o'  thee  ? 
Where  wilt  thou  cow'r  thy  chittering  wing, 

And  close  thy  ee  ? 

The  tenant  of  the  mean  hut,  with  its  ^^  ragged  roof  and 
chinky  wall, "  has  a  heart  to  pity  even  these !  This  is  worth  15 
several  homilies  on  Mercy;  for  it  is  the  voice  of  Mercy  her- 
self. Burns,  indeed,  lives  in  sympathy;  his  soul  rushes 
forth  into  all  realms  of  being;  nothing  that  has  existence 
can  be  indifferent  to  him.  The  very  Devil  he  cannot  hate 
with  right  orthodoxy:  20 

But  fare  you  weel,  auld  Nickie-ben  ; 
O,  wad  ye  tak  a  thought  and  men'  ! 
Ye  aibUns  might, — I  dinna  ken, — 

Still  hae  a  stake  ; 
I'm  wae  to  think  upo'  yon  den,  35 

Even  for  your  sake  I 

"  ^e  is  the  father  of  curses  and  lies,"  said  Dr.  Slop;  "  and 
is  cursed  and  damned  already." — ^^I  am  sorry  for  it," 
quoth  my  uncle  Toby ! — a  Poet  without  Love  were  a  physi- 
cal and  metaphysical  impossibility.  30 

25.  But  has  it  not  been  said,  in  contradiction  to  this 
principle,  that  "  Indignation  makes  verses  "  ?  It  has  been 
so  said,  and  is  true  enough:  but  the  contradiction  is  ap- 
parent, not  real.  The  Indignation  which  makes  verses 
is,  properly  speaking,  an  inverted  Love;  the  love  of  some  35 


26  BURNS 

right,  some  worth,  some  goodness,  belonging  to  ourselves 
or  others,  which  has  been  injured,  and  which  this  tem- 
pestuous feeling  issues  forth  to  defend  and  avenge.  No 
selfish  fury  of  heart,  existing  there  as  a  primary  feeling, 
5  and  without  its  opposite,  ever  produced  much  Poetry: 
otherwise,  we  suppose,  the  Tiger  were  the  most  musical  of 
all  our  choristers.  Johnson  said,  he  loved  a  good  hater; 
by  which  he  must  have  meant,  not  so  much  one  that  hated 
violently,  as  one  that  hated  wisely;  hated  baseness  from 

10  love  of  nobleness.  However,  in  spite  of  Johnson's  para- 
dox, tolerable  enough  for  once  in  speech,  but  which  need 
not  have  been  so  often  adopted  in  print  since  then,  we 
rather  believe  that  good  men  deal  sparingly  in  hatred, 
either  wise  or  unwise:  nay  that  a  "  good  "  hater  is  still  a 

15  desideratum  in  this  world.  The  Devil,  at  least,  who  passes 
for  the  chief  and  best  of  that  class,  is  said  to  be  nowise  an 
amiable  character. 

26.  Of  the  verses  which  Indignation  makes.  Burns  has 
also  given  us  specimens:  and  among  the  best  that  w^ere 

20  ever  given.  Who  will  forget  his  "  Dweller  in  yon  Dun- 
geon dark;  "  a  piece  that  might  have  been  chanted  by 
the  Furies  of  ^schylus  ?  The  secrets  of  the  Infernal  Pit 
are  laid  bare;  a  boundless  baleful  "  darkness  visible;  "  and 
streaks  of  hell-fire  quivering  madly  in  its  black  haggard 

25  bosom! 

Dweller  in  yon  Dungeon  dark, 

Hangman  of  Creation,  mark ! 

Wlio  in  widow's  weeds  appears, 

Laden  with  unhonoured  years, 
go  Noosing  witli  care  a  hursting  purse, 

Baited  with  many  a  deadly  curse! 

27.  Why  should  we  speak  of  ^' Scots  wha  hae  wi'  Wal- 
lace bled"  ;  since  all  know  of  it,  from  the  king  to  the 
meanest  of  his  subjects  ?     This  dithyrambic  was  composed 

35  on  horseback;  in  riding  in  the  middle  of  tempests,  over 


BURNS  27 

the  wildest  Galloway  moor,  in  company  with  a  Mr.  Syme, 
who,  observing  the  poet's  looks,  forbore  to  speak, — jtidi- 
ciously  enough,  for  a  man  composing  '^  Brace's  Address"  ^ 
might  be  unsafe  to  trifle  with.  Doubtless  this  stern  hymn 
was  singing  itself,  as  he  formed  it,  through  the  soul  of  5 
Burns:  but  to  the  external  ear,  it  should  be  sung  with  the 
throat  of  the  whirlwind.  So  long  as  there  is  warm  blood 
in  the  heart  of  Scotchman  or  man,  it  will  move  in  fierce 
thrills  under  this  war-ode;  the  best,  we  believe,  that  was 
ever  written  by  any  pen.  10 

28.  Another  wild  stormful  Song,  that  dwells  in  our  ear 
and  mind  with  a  strange  tenacity,  is  "  Macpherson's  Fare- 
well." Perhaps  there  is  something  in  the  tradition  itself 
that  cooperates.  For  was  not  this  grim  Celt,  this  shaggy 
Northland  Cacus,  that  ''lived  a  life  of  sturt  and  strife,  and  15 
died  by  treacherie," — was  not  he  too  one  of  the  Nimrods 
and  Napoleons  of  the  earth,  in  the  arena  of  his  own  remote 
misty  glens,  for  want  of  a  clearer  and  wider  one  ?  Nay, 
was  there  not  a  touch  of  grace  given  him  ?  A  fibre  of  love 
^nd  softness,  of  poetry  itself,  must  have  lived  in  his  savage  20 
heart :  for  he  composed  that  air  the  night  before  his  execu- 
tion; on  the  wings  of  that  poor  melody  his  better  soul 
would  soar  away  above  oblivion,  pain  and  all  the  ignominy 
and  despair,  which,  like  an  avalanche,  was  hurling  him 
to  the  abyss  !  Here  also,  as  at  Thebes,  and  in  Pelops'  25 
line,  was  material  Fate  matched  against  man's  Free-will; 
matched  in  bitterest  though  obscure  duel ;  and  the  ethereal 
soul  sank  not,  even  in  its  blindness,  without  a  cry  which 
has  survived  it.  But  who,  except  Burns,  could  have  given 
words  to  such  a  soul;  words  that  we  never  listen  to  with-  30 
out  a  strange  half -barbarous,  half-poetic  fellow-feeling  ? 

Sae  rantingly^  sae  wantonly, 

8a e  daunt ingly  gaed  lie  ; 
He  played  a  spring,  and  danced  it  round, 

Belo'UD  the  gallows-tree.  35 


28  BURJVS 

29.  Under  a  lighter  disguise,  the  same  principle  of 
Love^  which  we  have  recognised  as  the  great  character- 
istic of  Burns,  and  of  all  true  poets,  occasionally  manifests 
itself  in  the  shape  of  Humour.  Everywhere,  indeed,  in  his 
5  sunny  moods,  a  full  buoyant  flood  of  mirth  rolls  through 
the  mind  of  Burns;  he  rises  to  the  high,  and  stoops  to  the 
low,  and  is  brother  and  playmate  to  all  IS'ature.  We  speak 
not  of  his  bold  and  often  irresistible  faculty  of  caricature; 
for  this  is  Drollery  rather  than  Humour:  but  a  much  ten- 

10  derer  sportfulness  dwells  in  him;  and  comes  forth  her^ 
and  there,  in  evanescent  and  beautiful  touches;  as  in  his 
^'Address  to  the  Mouse,"  or  the  ''  Farmer's  Mare,"  or  in 
his  ^' Elegy  on  poor  Mailie,"  which  last  may  be  reckoned 
his  happiest  effort  of  this  kind.      In  these  pieces  there  are 

15  traits  of  a  Humour  as  fine  as  that  of  Sterne;  yet  altogether 
different,  original,  peculiar, — the  Humour  of  Burns. 

IV.  30.  Of  the  tenderness,  the  playful  pathos,  and  many 
other  kindred  qualities  of  Burns's  Poetry,  much  more  might 
be  said;  but  now,  with  these  poor  outlines  of  a  sketch,  we 

20  must  prepare  to  quit  this  part  of  our  subject.  To  speak 
of  his  individual  Writings,  adequately  and  with  any  detail, 
would  lead  us  far  beyond  our  limits.  As  already  hinted, 
we  can  look  on  but  few  of  these  pieces  as,  in  strict  critical 
language,  deserving  the  name  of  Poems :  they  are  rhymed 

25  eloquence,  rhymed  pathos,  rhymed  sense;  yet  seldom  es- 
sentially melodious,  aerial,  poetical.  "  Tam  o'  Shanter  " 
itself,  which  enjoys  so  high  a  favour,  does  not  appear  to  us 
at  all  decisively  to  come  under  this  last  category.  It  is 
not  so   much  a   poem,  as   a  piece  of  sparkling  rhetoric; 

30  the  heart  and  body  of  the  story  still  lies  hard  and  dead. 
He  has  not  gone  back,  much  less  carried  us  back,  into 
that  dark,  earnest,  wondering  age,  when  the  tradition  was 
believed,  and  when  it  took  its  rise;  he  does  not  attempt, 
by  any  new-modelling  of  his  supernatural  ware,  to  strike 


BURNS  29 

anew  that  deep  mysterious  chord  of  human  nature^  which 
once  responded  to  such  things;  and  which  lives  in  us  too, 
and  will  forever  live,  though  silent  now,  or  vibrating  with 
far  other  notes,  and  to  far  different  issues.  Oar  German 
readers  will  understand  us,  when  we  say,  that  he  is  not  5 
the  Tieck  but  the  Musaus  of  this  tale.  Externally  it  is 
all  green  and  living;  yet  look  closer,  it  is  no  firm  growth, 
but  only  ivy  on  a  rock.  The  piece  does  not  properly  co- 
here :  the  strange  chasm  which  yawns  in  our  incredulous 
imaginations  between  the  Ayr  public-house  and  the  gate  10 
of  Tophet,  is  nowhere  bridged  over,  nay  the  idea  of  such  a 
bridge  is  laughed  at;  and  thus  the  Tragedy  of  the  adven- 
ture becomes  a  mere  drunken  phantasmagoria,  or  many- 
coloured  spectrum  painted  on  ale-vapours,  and  the  Farce 
alone  has  any  reality.  We  do  not  say  that  Burns  should  15 
have  made  much  more  of  this  tradition;  we  rather  think 
that,  for  strictly  poetical  purposes,  not  much  ivas  to  be 
made  of  it.  Neither  are  we  blind  to  the  deep,  varied, 
genial  power  displayed  in  what  he  has  actually  accom- 
plished; but  we  find  far  more  "  Shakspearean  "  qualities,  20 
as  these  of  "  Tam  o'  Shanter  "  have  been  fondly  named, 
in  many  of  his  other  pieces;  nay  we  incline  to  believe  that 
this  latter  might  have  been  written,  all  but  quite  as  well,  by 
a  man  who,  in  place  of  genius,  had  only  possessed  talent. 

31.  Perhaps  we  may  venture  to  say,  that  the  most  strictly  25 
poetical  of  all  his  ^' poems"  is  one  which  does  not  ap23ear 
in  Currie's  Edition;  but  has  been  often  printed  before  and 
since,  under  the  humble  title  of  ''The  Jolly  Beggars." 
The  subject  truly  is  among  the  lowest  in  nature;  but  it 
only  the  more  shows  our  Poet's  gift  in  raising  it  into  the  30 
domain  of  Art.  To  our  minds,  this  piece  seems  thoroughly 
compacted;  melted  together,  refined;  and  poured  forth  in 
one  flood  of  true  liquid  harmony.  It  is  light,  airy,  soft 
of  movement;  yet  sharp  and  precise  in  its  details;  every 
face   is   a   portrait:    that  /^  raucle    carlin,"   that    '^  wee  35 


30  BUMNS 

Apollo/'  that  ''Son  of  Mars/'  are  Scottish,  yet  ideal; 
the  scene  is  at  once  a  dream,  and  the  yery  Eagcastle  of 
'' Poosie-Nansie."  Farther,  it  seems  in  a  considerable 
degree  complete,  a  real  self-supporting  Whole,  which  is  the 
5  highest  merit  in  a  poem.  The  blanket  of  the  Night  is 
drawn  asunder  for  a  moment;  in  full,  ruddy,  flaming  light, 
these  rough  tatterdemalions  are  seen  in  their  boisterous 
revel ;  for  the  strong  pulse  of  Life  vindicates  its  right  to 
gladness  even  here;  and  when  the  curtain  closes,  we  pro- 

10  long  the  action,  without  effort;  the  next  day  as  the  last, 
our  ''Caird"  and  our  '' Balladmonger  "  are  singing  and 
soldiering;  their  ^^  brats  and  callets  "  are  hawking,  begging, 
cheating;  and  some  other  night,  in  new  combinations, 
they  will  wring  from  Fate  another  hour  of  wassail  and 

15  good  cheer.  Apart  from  the  universal  sympathy  with  man 
which  this  again  bespeaks  in  Burns,  a  genuine  inspiration 
and  no  inconsiderable  technical  talent  are  manifested  here. 
There  is  the  fidelity,  humour,  warm  life  and  accurate  paint- 
ing and  grouping  of  some  Teniers,  for  whom  hostlers  and  ca- 

20  rousing  peasants  are  not  without  significance.  It  would 
be  strange,  doubtless,  to  call  this  the  best  of  Burns's  writ- 
ings :  we  mean  to  say  only,  that  it  seems  to  us  the  most  per- 
fect of  its  kind,  as  a  piece  of  poetical  composition,  strictly 
so  called.     In  the  ''Beggars'  Opera,"  in  the  "Beggars' 

25  Bush,"  as  other  critics  have  already  remarked,  there  is 
nothing  which,  in  real  poetic  vigour,  equals  this  "  Can- 
tata; "  nothing,  as  we  think,  which  comes  within  many 
degrees  of  it. 

32.  But  by  far  the  most  finished,  complete  and  truly 
30  inspired  pieces  of  Burns  are,  without  dispute,  to  be  found 
among  his  "  Songs."  It  is  here  that,  although  through  a 
small  aperture,  his  light  shines  with  least  obstruction;  in 
its  highest  beauty  and  pure  sunny  clearness.  The  reason 
may  be,  that  Song  is  a  brief  simple  species  of  composition ; 


BURNS  31 

and  requires  uothing  so  much  for  its  perfection  as  genuine 
poetic  feeling,  genuine  music  of  heart.  Yet  the  Song  has 
its  rules  equally  with  the  Tragedy;  rules  which  in  most 
cases  are  poorly  fulfilled/  in  many  cases  are  not  so  much 
as  felt.  We  might  write  a  long  essay  on  the  Songs  of  5 
Burns;  which  we  reckon  by  far  the  best  that  Britain  has 
yet  produced :  for  indeed,  since  the  era  of  Queen  Eliza- 
beth, we  know  not  that,  by  any  other  hand,  aught  truly 
worth  attention  has  been  accomplished  in  this  department. 
True,  we  have  songs  enough  ''by  persons  of  quality;  "  we  10 
have  tawdry,  hollow,  wine-bred  madrigals ;  many  a  rhymed 
speech  '^in  the  flowing  and  watery  vein  of  Ossorius  the 
Portugal  Bishop,"  rich  in  sonorous  words,  and,  for  moral, 
dashed  perhaps  with  some  tint  of  a  sentimental  sensuality; 
all  which  many  persons  cease  not  from  endeavouring  to  15 
sing;  though  for  most  part,  we  fear,  the  music  is  but  from 
the  throat  outwards,  or  at  best  from  some  region  far  enough 
short  of  the  Soul ;  not  in  which,  but  in  a  certain  inane 
Limbo  of  the  Fancy,  or  even  in  some  vaporous  debateable- 
land  on  the  outskirts  of  the  Nervous  System,  most  of  such  20 
madrigals  and  rhymed  speeches  seem  to  have  originated. 

33.  With  the  Songs  of  Burns  we  must  not  name  these 
things.  Independently  of  the  clear,  manly,  heartfelt  sen- 
timent that  ever  pervades  Ms  poetry,  his  Songs  are  honest 
in  another  point  of  view:  in  form,  as  well  as  in  spirit.  25 
They  do  not  affect  to  be  set  to  music,  but  they  actually 
and  in  themselves  are  music;  they  have  received  their  life, 
and  fashioned  themselves  together,  in  the  medium  of  Har- 
mony, as  Venus  rose  from  the  bosom  of  the  sea.  The 
story,  the  feeling,  is  not  detailed,  but  suggested;  not  said,  30 
or  spouted,  in  rhetorical  completeness  and  coherence;  but 
sung,  in  fitful  gushes,  in  glowing  hints,  in  fantastic  breaks, 
in  warhlings  not  of  the  voice  only,  but  of  the  whole  mind. 
We  consider  this  to  be  the  essence  of  a  song;  and  that  no 
songs  since  the  little  careless  catches,  and  as  it  were  drops  35 


32  BURNS 

of  song,  which  Shakspeare  has  here  and  there  sprinkled 
over  his  plays,  fulfil  this  condition  in  nearly  the  same 
degree  as  most  of  Burns's  do.  Such  grace  and  truth  of 
external  movement,  too,  presupposes  in  general  a  corre- 
5  spending  force  and  truth  of  sentiment  and  inward  mean- 
ing. The  Songs  of  Burns  are  not  more  perfect  in  the 
former  quality  than  in  the  latter.  With  what  tenderness  he 
sings,  yet  with  what  vehemence  and  entireness !  There  is 
a  piercing  Avail  in  his  sorrow,  the  purest  rapture  in  his  joy; 

10  he  burns  with  the  sternest  ire,  or  laughs  with  the  loudest  or 
sliest  mirth;  and  yet  he  is  sweet  and  soft,  ''sweet  as  the 
smile  when  fond  lovers  meet,  and  soft  as  their  parting 
tear."  If  we  farther  take  into  account  the  immense  vari- 
ety of  his  subjects;  how,  from  the  loud  flowing  revel  in 

15  ''  Willie  brew'd  a  Peck  o'  Maut,"  to  the  still,  rapt  enthusi- 
asm of  sadness  for  ''  Mary  in  Heaven;  "  from  the  glad  kind 
greeting  of  '  ^Auld_Langsy ne J '  or  the  comic  archness  of 
''  Duncan  Gray,"  to  the  fire-eyed  lury  of  ''  Scots  wha  hae 
wi'  Wallace  bled,"  he  has  found  a  tone  and  words  for 

20  every  mood  of  man's  heart, — it  will  seem  a  small  praise  if 
we  rank  him  as  the  first  of  all  our  Song-writers;  for  we 
know  not  whereto  find  one  worthy  of  being  second  to  him. 

J         34.  It  is  on  his  Songs,  as  we  believe,  that  Burns's  chief 

'     influence  as  an  author  will  ultimately  be  found  to  depend: 

25  nor,  if  our  Fletcher's  aphorism  is  true,  shall  we  accmmt 
this  a  small  influence.  ''Let  me  make  the  songs  of  a 
people,"  said  he,  "  and  you  shall  make  its  laws."  Surely, 
if  ever  any  Poet  might  have  equalled  himself  with  Legis- 
lators on  this  ground,  it  was  Burns.     His  Songs  are  already 

30  part  of  the  mother-tongue,  not  of  Scotland  only  but  of 
Britain,  and  of  the  millions  that  in  all  ends  of  the  earth 
speak  a  British  language.  In  hut  and  hall,  as  the  heart 
unfolds  itself  in  many-coloured  joy  and  woe  of  existence, 
the  name,  the  voice  of  that  joy  and  that  woe,  is  the  name 

35  and  voice  which  Burns  has  given  them.     Strictly  speaking. 


BURNS  33 

perhaps  no  British  man  has  so  deeply  affected  the  thoughts 
and  feelings  of  so  many  men,  as  this  solitary  and  altogether 
private  individual,  with  means  apparently  the  humblest. 

35.  In  another  point  of  view,  moreover,  we  incline  to 
think   that   Burns 's  influence   may   have   been   consider-    5 
able :  we  mean,  as  exerted  specially  on  the  Literature  of  his 
country,  at  least  on  the  Literature  of  Scotland.     Among 
the  great  changes  which  British,  particularly  Scottish  lit- 
erature, has  undergone  since  that  period,  one  of  the  great- 
est will  be  found  to  consist  in  its  remarkable  increase  of  10 
nationality.     Even  the  English  writers,  most  popular  in 
Burns's  time,  were  little  distinguished  for  their  literary     ^ 
patriotism,  in  this  its  best  sense.     A  certain  attenuated 
cosmopolitanism  had,  in  good  measure,  taken  place  of  the 
old  insular  home-feeling;  literature  was,  as  it  were,  without  15 
any  local  environment;  was  not  nourished  by  the  affections 
which  spring  from  a  native  soil.     Our  Grays  and  Glovers 
seemed  to  write  almost  as  if  in  vacuo  ;  the  thing  written 
bears   no  mark  of  place;   it  is  not  written  so  much  for 
Englishmen,  as  for  men;  or  rather,  which  is  the  inevitable  20 
result  of  this,  for  certain  Generalisations  which  philosophy 
termed  men.     Goldsmith  is  an  exception:  not  so  Johnson; 
the  scene  of  his  ''Kambler"  is  little  more  English  than 
that  of  his  "  Kasselas." 

36.  But  if  such  was,  in  some  degree,  the  case  with  Eng-  25 
land,  it  was,  in  the  highest  degree,  the  case  with  Scotland. 
In  fact,  our  Scottish  literature  had,  at  that  period,  a  very 
singular  aspect;  unexampled,  so  far  as  we  know,  except 
perhaps  at  Geneva,  where  the  same  state  of  matters  appears 
still  to  continue.  For  a  long  period  after  Scotland  became  30 
British,  we  had  no  literature:  at  the  date  when  Addison 
and  Steele  were  writing  their  ^^  Spectators,"  our  good  John 
Boston  was  writing,  with  the  noblest  intent,  but  alike  in 
defiance  of  grammar  and  philosophy,  his  ^^  Fourfold  State 

of  Man. "     Then  came  the  schisms  in  our  National  Church,  35 


34  BUENS 

and  the  fiercer  schisms  in  our  Body  Politic;  Theologic 
ink^  and  Jacobite  bloody  with  gall  enough  in  both  cases, 
seemed  to  have  blotted  out  the  intellect  of  the  country: 
however,  it  was  only  obscured,  not  obliterated.  Lord 
5  Karnes  made  nearly  the  first  attempt  at  writing  English; 
and  ere  long,  Hume,  Kobertson,  Smith,  and  a  whole  host 
of  followers,  attracted  hither  the  eyes  of  all  Europe.  And 
yet  in  this  brilliant  resuscitation  of  our  '^  fervid  genius," 
there  was  nothing  truly  Scottish,  nothing  indigenous;  ex- 

10  cept,  perhaps,  the  natural  impetuosity  of  intellect,  which 
we  sometimes  claim,  and  are  sometimes  upbraided  with,  as 
a  characteristic  of  our  nation.  It  is  curious  to  remark  that 
Scotland,  so  full  of  writers,  had  no  Scottish  culture,  nor 
indeed  any  English;  our  culture  was   almost   exclusively 

15  French.  It  was  by  studying  Racine  and  Voltaire,  Batteux 
and  Boileau,  that  Kames  had  trained  himself  to  be  a  critic 
and  philosopher;  it  was  the  light  of  Montesquieu  and 
Mably  that  guided  Robertson  in  his  political  speculations; 
Quesnay's  lamp  that  kindled  the  lamp  of  Adam  Smith. 

20  Hume  was  too  rich  a  man  to  borrow;  and  perhaps  he  re- 
acted on  the  Erencli  more  than  he  was  acted  on  by  them : 
but  neither  had  he  aught  to  do  with  Scotland ;  Edinburgh, 
equally  with  La  Fleche,  was  but  the  lodging  and  laboratory, 
in  which  he  not  so  much  morally  lived,  as  metaphysicallj^ 

25  investigated.  Never,  perhaps,  was  there  a  class  of  writers 
so  clear  and  well-ordered,  yet  so  totally  destitute,  to  all 
appearance,  of  any  patriotic  affection,  nay  of  any  human 
affection  whatever.  The  French  wdts  of  the  period  were  as 
unpatriotic :  but  their  general  deficiency  in  moral  principle, 

30  not  to  say  their  avowed  sensuality  and  unbelief  in  all  virtue, 
strictly  so  called,  render  this  accountable  enough.  We 
hope,  there  is  a  patriotism  founded  on  something  better 
than  prejudice;  that  our  country  may  be  dear  to  us,  with- 
out injury  to  our  philosophy;  that  in  loving  and  justly 

35  prizing  all  other  lands,  we  may  prize  justly,  and  yet  love  be- 


BURNS  35 

fore  all  others,  our  own  stern  Motherland,  and  the  venerable 
Structure  of  social  and  moral  Life,  which  Mind  has  through 
long  ages  been  building  up  for  us  there.     Surely  there  is 
nourishment  for  the  better  part  of  man's  heart  in  all  this: 
surely  tlie  roots,  that  have  fixed  themselves  in  the  very  core    5 
of  man's  being,  may  be  so  cultivated  as  to  grow  up  not  into 
briers,  but  into  roses,  in  the  field  of  his  life!    Our  Scottish 
sages  have  no  such  propensities :  the  field  of  their  life  shows 
neither  briers  nor  roses;  but  only  a  flat,  continuous  thrash- 
ing-floor for  Logic,  whereon  all  questions,  from  the  "  Doc-  10 
trine  of  Rent"  to  the  '^  Natural  History  of  Religion,"  are 
thrashed  and  sifted  with  the  same  mechanical  impartiality ! 
37.  With  Sir  Walter  Scott  at  the  head  of  our  literature, 
it  cannot  be  denied  that  much  of  this  evil   is  past,   or 
rapidly  passing  away:    our  chief   literary  men,  whatever  15 
other  faults  they  may  have,  no  longer  live  among  us  like  a     . 
French  Colony,  or  some  knot  of  Propaganda  Missionaries; 
but  like  natural -born  subjects  of  the  soil,  partaking  and 
sympathising  in  all  our  attachments,  humours  and  habits. 
Our  literature  no  longer  grows  in  water  but  in  mould,  and  20 
with  the  true  racy  virtues  of  the  soil  and  climate.     How 
much  of  this  change  may  be  due  to  Burns,  or  to  any  other    ' 
individual,  it  might  be  difficult  to  estimate.     Direct  lite- 
rary imitation  of  Burns  was  not  to  be  looked  for.     But  his 
example,   in  the  fearless  adoption  of   domestic  subjects,  25 
could  not  but  operate  from  afar;  and  certainly  in  no  heart 
did  the  love  of  country  ever  burn  with  a  warmer  glow 
than  in  that  of  Burns:   "  ^  tide  of  Scottish  prejudice,"  as 
he  modestly  calls  this  deep  and  generous  feeling,  ''  had  been 
poured  along  his  veins;  and   he  felt   that   it  would  boil  30 
there  till  the  flood-gates  shut  in  eternal  rest."     It  seemed 
to  him,  as  if  he  could  do  so  little  for  his  country,  and  yet 
would  so  gladly  have  done  all.     One  small  province  stood 
open  for  him, — that  of  Scottish  Song;  and  how  eagerly  he 
entered  oq  it,  how  devotedly  he  laboured  there!     In  his  35 


36  BUBNS 

toilsome  journeyings,  this  object  never  quits  liini;  it  is  tlie 
little  happy-valley  of  his  careworn  heart.  In  the  gloom 
of  his  own  affliction^  he  eagerly  searches  after  some  lonely 
brother  of  the  muse,  and  rejoices  to  snatch  one  other  name 
5  from  the  oblivion  that  was  covering  it !  These  were  early 
feelings,  and  they  abode  with  him  to  the  end : 

.     .      .     A  wisli  (I  mind  its  power), 
A  wish,  tliat  to  my  latest  liour 
Will  strongly  liexive  my  l)reast, — 
1^  That  I,  for  poor  auld  Scotland's  sake, 

Some  useful  plan  or  book  could  make, 
Or  sing  a  sang  at  least. 

The  rougli  bur  Thistle  spreading  wide 
Amangtlie  bearded  bear, 
15  I  turn'd  my  weeding-clips  aside. 

And  spared  the  symbol  dear. 

V.  38.  But  to  leave  the  mere  literary  character  of  Burns, 
which  has  already  detained  us  too  long.  Far  more  inter- 
esting than  any  of  his  written  works,  as  it  appears  to  us, 

20  are  his  acted  ones:  the  Life  he  willed  and  was  fated  to 
lead  among  his  fellow-men.  These  Poems  are  but  like  little 
rhymed  fragments  scattered  here  and  there  in  the  grand 
unrhymed  Komance  of  his  earthly  existence ;  and  it  is  only 
when  intercalated  in  this  at  their  proper  places,  that  they 

25  attain  their  full  measure  of  significance.  And  this,  too, 
alas,  was  but  a  fragment  !  The  plan  of  a  mighty  edifice 
had  been  sketched;  some  columns,  porticos,  firm  masses 
of  building,  stand  completed ;  the  rest  more  or  less  clear- 
ly indicated;  with  many  a  far-stretching  tendency,  which 

80  only  studious  and  friendly  eyes  can  now  ti'ace  towards  the 
purposed  termination.  For  the  work  is  broken  off  in  the 
middle,  almost  in  the  beginning;  and  rises  among  us, 
beautiful  and  sad,  at  once  unfinished  and  a  ruin!  If  char- 
itable judgment  was  necessiiry  in  estimating  his  Poems. 


BUENS  37 

and  justice  required  that  the  aim  and  the  manifest  power 
to  fulfil  it  must  often  be  accepted  for  the  fulfilment;  much 
more  is  this  the  case  in  regard  to  his  Life,  the  sum  and 
result  of  all  his  endeayours,  where  his  difficulties  came 
upon  him  not  in  detail  only,  but  in  mass;  and  so  much  5 
has  been  left  unaccomplished,  nay  was  mistaken,  and  alto- 
gether marred. 

39.   Properly  speaking,  there  is  but  one  era  in  the  life   ^ 
of  Burns,  and  that  the  earliest.     We  have  not  youth  and 
manhood,  but  only  youth :  for,  to  the  end,  we  discern  no  10 
decisive  change  in  the  complexion  of  his  character;  in  his 
thirty-seventh  year,  he  is  still,  as  it  were,  in  youth.     With 
all  that  resoluteness  of  judgment,  that  penetrating  insight, 
and  singular  maturity  of  intellectual  power,  exhibited  in 
his  writings,  he  never  attains  to  any  clearness  regarding  15 
himself;  to  the  last,  he  never  ascertains  his  peculiar  aim, 
even  with  such  distinctness  as  is  common  among  ordinary 
men;  and  therefore  never  can  pursue  it  with  that  single- 
ness of  will,  which  insures  success  and  some  contentment 
to  such  men.     To  the  last,  he  wavers  between  two  pur-  20 
poses:  glorying  in  his  talent,  like  a  true  poet,  he  yet  cannot 
consent  to  make  this  his  chief  and  sole  glory,  and  to  follow 
it  as  the  one  thing  needful,  through  poverty  or  riches, 
through  good  or  evil  report.     Another  far  meaner  ambi- 
tion still  cleaves  to   him;   he  must   dream   and  struggle  25 
about  a  certain  "  Eock  of  Independence;  "  which,  natural 
and  even  admirable  as  it  might  be,  was  still  but  a  warring 
with  the  world,  on  the  comparatively  insignificant  ground 
of  his  being  more  completely  or  less  completely  supplied 
with  money  than  others;  of  his  standing  at  a  higher  or  30 
at  a  lower  altitude  in  general  estimation  than  others.     For 
the  world  still  appears  to  him,  as  to  the  young,  in  bor- 
rowed colours:  he  expects  from  it  what  it  cannot  give  to 
any  man;  seeks  for  contentment,  not  within  himself,  in 
action  and  wise  effort,  but  from  without,  in  the  kindness  35 


38  BURNS 

of  circumstances,  in  love,  friendship,  honour,  pecuniary 
ease.  He  would  be  happy,  not  actively  and  in  himself, 
but  passively  and  from  some  ideal  cornucopia  of  Enjoy- 
ments, not  earned  by  his  own  labour,  but  showered  on  him 
5  by  the  beneficence  of  Destiny.  Thus,  like  a  young  man, 
he  cannot  gird  himself  up  for  any  worthy  well-calculated 
goal,  but  swerves  to  and  fro,  between  passionate  hope  and 
remorseful  disappointment:  rushing  onwards  with  a  deep 
tempestuous  force,  he  surmounts  or  breaks  asunder  many 

10  a  barrier ;  travels,  nay  advances  far,  but  advancing  only 
under  uncertain  guidance,  is  ever  and  anon  turned  from  his 
path;  and  to  the  last  cannot  reach  the  only  true  happiness 
of  a  man,  that  of  clear  decided  Activity  in  the  sphere  for 
which,  by  nature  and  circumstances,  he  has  been  fitted  and 

15  appointed. 

40.  We  do  not  say  these  things  in  dispraise  of  Burns; 
nay,  perhaps,  they  but  interest  us  the  more  in  his  favour. 
This  blessing  is  not  given  soonest  to  the  best;  but  rather, 
it  is  often  the  greatest  minds  that  are  latest  in  obtaining 

20  it;  for  where  most  is  to  be  developed,  most  time  may  be 
required  to  develop  it.  A  complex  condition  had  been 
assigned  him  from  without;  as  complex  a  condition  from 
within:  no  '^preestablished  harmony  "  existed  between  the 
clay  soil  of  Mossgiel  and  the   empyrean  soul  of   Robert 

25  Burns;  it  was  not  wonderful  that  the  adjustment  between 
them  should  have  been  long  postponed,  and  his  arm  long 
cumbered,  and  his  sight  confused,  in  so  vast  and  discord- 
ant an  economy  as  he  had  been  appointed  steward  over. 
Byron  was,  at  his  death,  but  a  year  younger  than  Burns; 

30  and  through  life,  as  it  might  have  appeared,  far  more 
simpiy  situated :  yet  in  him  too  we  can  trace  no  such  adjust- 
ment, no  such  moral  manhood;  but  at  best,  and  only  a 
little  before  his  end,  the  beginning  of  what  seemed  such. 

41.  By  much   the   most   striking   incident   in   Burns's 
35  Life  is  his  journey  to  Edinburgh;  but  perhaps  a  still  more 


BURNS  39 

important  one  is  his  residence  at  Irvine,  so  early  as  in  his 
twenty-third  year.     Hitherto  his  life  had  been  poor  and 
toilworn;    but  otherwise  not  ungenial,   and,  with  all  its 
distresses,  by  no  means  unhappy.     In  his  parentage,  de- 
ducting outward  circumstances,  he  had   every  reason  to    5 
reckon   himself    fortunate.      His  father  was   a    man   of     y 
thoughtful,  intense,  earnest  character,  as  the  best  of  our 
peasants  are;    valuing  knowledge,    possessing   some,   and 
what  is  far  better  and  rarer,  openminded  for  more :  a  man 
with  a  keen  insight  and  devout  heart;  reverent  towards  God,  10 
friendly  therefore  at  once,  and  fearless  towards  all  that 
God  has  made:  in  one  word,  though  but  a  hard-handed 
peasant,  a  complete  and  fully  unfolded  Ma7i.      Such  a 
father  is  seldom  found  in  any  rank  in  society;  and  was 
worth  descending  far  in  society  to  seek.     Unfortunately,  15 
he  was  very  poor;  had  he  been  even  a  little  richer,  almost 
never  so  little,  the  whole  might  have  issued  far  otherwise. 
Mighty  events  turn  on  a  straw;  the  crossing  of  a  brook  de- 
cides the  conquest  of  the  world.     Had  this  William  Burns 's 
small  seven  acres  of  nursery-ground  anywise  prospered,  the  20 
boy  Eobert  had  been  sent  to  school ;  had  struggled  forward, 
as  so  many  weaker  men  do,  to  some  university ;  come  forth 
not  as  a  rustic  wonder,  but  as  a  regular  well-trained  intel- 
lectual workman,  and  changed  the  whole  course  of  British 
Literature, — for  it  lay  in  him  to  have  done  this !     But  the  25 
nursery  did  not  prosper;  poverty  sank  his  whole  family  below 
the  help  of  even  our  cheap  school-system :  Burns  remained 
a  hard-worked  ploughboy,  and  British  literature  took  its 
own  course.     Nevertheless,  even  in  this  rugged  scene  there 
is  much  to  nourish  him.     If  he  drudges,  it  is  with  his  30 
brother,  and  for  his  father  and  mother,  whom  he  loves, 
and  would  fain  shield  from  want.     Wisdom  is  not  ban- 
ished from  their  poor  hearth,  nor  the  balm  of  natural  feel- 
ing: the  solemn  words.  Let  us  worshijJ    God,  are  heard 
there  from  a  'Spriest-like  father;  "  if  threatenings  of  un-  35 


40  BURNS 

just  men  throw  mother  and  children  into  tears,  these  are 
tears  not  of  grief  only,  but  of  holiest  affection ;  every  heart 
in  that  humble  group  feels  itself  the  closer  knit  to  every 
other;  in  their  hard  warfare  they  are  there  together,  a 
5  '^little  band  of  brethren."  Neither  are  such  tears,  and 
the  deep  beauty  that  dwells  in  them,  their  only  portion. 
Light  visits  the  hearts  as  it  does  the  eyes  of  all  living: 
there  is  a  force,  too,  in  this  youth,  that  enables  him  to 
trample  on  misfortune ;  nay  to  bind  it  under  his  feet  to 

10  make  him  sport.  For  a  bold,  warm,  buoyant  humour  of 
character  has  been  given  him;  and  so  the  thick-coming 
shapes  of  evil  are  welcomed  with  a  gay,  friendly  irony,  and 
in  their  closest  pressure  he  bates  no  jot  of  heart  or  hope. 
Vague  yearnings  of  ambition  fail  not,  as  he  grows   up; 

15  dreamy  fancies  hang  like  cloud-cities  around  him;  the 
curtain  of  Existence  is  slowly  rising,  in  many-coloured 
i  splendour  and  gloom :  and  the  auroral  light  of  first  love 
is  gilding  his  horizon,  and  the  music  of  song  is  on  his  path ; 
and  so  he  walks 

20  in  glory  and  in  joy, 

Behind  his  plough,  upon  the  mountain  side. 

42.  We  ourselves  know,  from  the  best  evidence,  that  up 
to  this  date  Burns  was  happy;  nay  that  he  was  the  gayest, 
brightest,  most  fantastic,  fascinating  being  to  be  found  in 

25  the  world;  more  so  even  than  he  ever  afterwards  appeared. 
But  now,  at  this  early  age,  he  quits  the  paternal  roof;  goes 
forth  into  looser,  louder,  more  exciting  society;  and  be- 
comes initiated  in  those  dissipations,  those  vices,  which  a 
certain  class  of  philosophers  have  asserted  to  be  a  natural 

30  preparative  for  entering  on  active  life ;  a  kind  of  mud-bath, 
in  which  the  youth  is,  as  it  were,  necessitated  to  steep, 
and,  we  suppose,  cleanse  himself,  before  the  real  toga  of 
Manhood  can  be  laid  on  him.  We  shall  not  dispute  much 
with  this  class  of  philosophers;  we  hope  they  are  mistaken: 


BURNS  41 

for  Sin  and  Remorse  so  easily  beset  iis  at  all  stages  of  life, 
and  are  always  such  indifferent  company,  that  it  seems  hard 
we  should,  at  any  stage,  be  forced  and  fated  not  only  to  meet 
but  to  yield  to  them,  and  even  serve  for  a  term  in  their 
leprous  armada.  We  hope  it  is  not  so.  Clear  we  are,  at  all  5 
events,  it  cannot  be  the  training  one  receives  in  this  Devil's 
service,  but  only  our  determining  to  desert  from  it,  that 
fits  us  for  true  manly  Action.  We  become  men,  not  after 
we  have  been  dissipated,  and  disappointed  in  the  chase  of 
false  pleasure;  but  after  we  have  ascertained,  in  any  way,  10 
what  impassable  barriers  hem  us  in  through  this  life;  how 
mad  it  is  to  hope  for  contentment  to  our  infinite  soul  from 
the  gifts  of  this  extremely  finite  world;  that  a  man  must 
be  sufficient  for  himself;  and  that  for  suffering  and  endur- 
ing there  is  no  remedy  but  striving  and  doing.  Manhood  15 
begins  when  we  have  in  any  way  made  truce  with  Neces- 
sity; begins  even  when  we  have  surrendered  to  Necessity, 
as  the  most  part  only  do;  but  begins  joyfully  and  hope- 
fully only  when  we  have  reconciled  ourselves  to  Necessity; 
and  thus,  in  reality,  triumphed  over  it,  and  felt  that  in  20 
Necessity  we  are  free.  Surely,  such  lessons  as  this  last, 
which,  in  one  shape  or  other,  is  the  grand  lesson  for  every 
mortal  man,  are  better  learned  from  the  lips  of  a  devout 
mother,  in  the  looks  and  actions  of  a  devout  father,  while 
the  heart  is  yc^  soft  and  pliant,  than  in  collision  with  the  25 
sharp  adamant  of  Fate,  attracting  us  to  shipwreck  us, 
when  the  heart  is  grown  hard,  and  may  be  broken  before 
it  wall  become  contrite.  Had  Burns  continued  to  learn 
this,  as  he  was  already  learning  it,  in  his  father's  cottage, 
he  would  have  learned  it  fully,  which  he  never  did ;  and  30 
been  saved  many  a  lasting  aberration,  many  a  bitter  hour 
and  year  of  remorseful  sorrow. 

43.  It  seems  to  us  another  circumstance  of  fatal  import 
in  Burns's  history,  that  at  this  time  too  he  became  involved 
in  the  religious  quarrels  of  his  district;  that  he  was  en-  35 


42  BUENS 

listed  and  feasted,  as  the  fighting  man  of  the  New-Light 
Priesthood,  in  their  highly  unprofitable  warfare.  At  the 
tables  of  these  free-minded  clergy  he  learned  much  more 
than  was  needful  for  him.  Such  liberal  ridicule  of  fa- 
5  naticism  awakened  in  his  mind  scruples  about  Eeligion 
itself;  and  a  whole  world  of  Doubts,  which  it  required 
quite  another  set  of  conjurors  than  these  men  to  exorcise. 
We  do  not  say  that  such  an  intellect  as  his  could  have 
escaped  similar  doubts  at  some  period  of  his  history;  or 

10  even  that  he  could,  at  a  later  period,  have  come  through 
them  altogether  victorious  and  unharmed:  but  it  seems 
peculiarly  unfortunate  that  this  time,  above  all  others, 
should  have  been  fixed  for  the  encounter.  For  now,  with 
principles  assailed  by  evil  example  from  without,  by  '^pas- 

15  sions  raging  like  demons "  from  within,  he  had  little 
need  of  sceptical  misgivings  to  whisper  treason  in  the  heat 
of  the  battle,  or  to  cut  off  his  retreat  if  he  were  already 
defeated.  He  loses  his  feeling  of  innocence;  his  mind  is 
at  variance  with  itself;  the  old  divinity  no  longer  presides 

20  there;  but  wild  Desires  and  wild  Eepentance  alternately 
oppress  him.  Ere  long,  too,  he  has  committed  himself 
before  the  world;  his  character  for  sobriety,  dear  to  a 
Scottish  peasant  as  few  corrupted  worldlings  can  even  con- 
ceive, is  destroyed  in  the  eyes  of  men;  and  his  only  re- 

25  fuge  consists  in  trying  to  disbelieve  his  guiltiness,  and  is 
but  a  refuge  of  lies.  The  blackest  desperation  now  gathers 
over  him,  broken  only  by  red  lightnings  of  remorse. 
The  whole  fabric  of  his  life  is  blasted  asunder;  for  now 
not  only  his  character,  but  his  personal  liberty,  is  to  be  lost ; 

30  men  and  Fortune  are  leagued  for  his  hurt;  ''  hungry  Ruin 
has  him  in  the  wind. "  He  sees  no  escape  but  the  saddest  of 
all :  exiled  from  his  loved  country,  to  a  country  in  every  sense 
inhospitable  and  abhorrent  to  him.  While  the  '^gloomy 
night  is  gathering  fast,"  in  mental  storm  and  solitude,  as 

35  well  as  in  physical,  he  sings  his  wild  farewell  to  Scotland : 


BURNS  43 

Farewell,  my  friends ;  farewell,  my  foes  ! 
My  peace  with  these,  my  love  with  those  : 
The  bursting  tears  my  lieart  declare  ; 
Adieu,  my  native  banks  of  Ayr  ! 

44.  Light  breaks  suddenly  in  on  him  in  floods;  but  still  a    5 
false  transitory  lights  and  no  real  sunshine.    He  is  invited  to      , 
Edinburgh ;  hastens  thither  with  anticipating  heart ;  is  wel- 
comed as  in  a  triumph,  and  with  universal  blandishment 
and  acclamation;  whatever  is  wisest,  whatever  is  greatest 

or  loveliest  there,  gathers  round  him,  to  gaze  on  his  face,  10 
to  show  him  honour,  sympathy,  affection.      Burns's  ap- 
pearance among  the  sages  and  nobles  of  Edinburgh  must  be 
regarded  as  one  of  the  most  singular  phenomena  in  modern 
Literature;  almost  like  the  appearance  of  some  Napoleon 
among  the  crowned  sovereigns  of  modern  Politics.      Eor  15 
it  is  nowise  as  ^'a  mockery  king,"  set  there  by  favour, 
transiently  and  for  a  purpose,  that  he  will  let  himself  be 
treated;  still  less  is  he  a  mad  Eienzi,  whose  sudden  eleva- 
tion turns  his  too  weak  head:  but  he  stands  there  on  his 
own  basis;  cool,  unastonished,  holding  his  equal  rank  from  20 
Nature   herself;   putting  forth  no   claim  which  there  is 
not  strength  i7i  him,  as  well  as  about  him,  to  vindicate. 
Mr.   Lockhart    has    some   forcible    observations    on    this 
point : 

45.  *'It  needs  no  eifort  of  imagination,"  says  he,  '*to  conceive  25 
what  the  sensations  of  an  isolated  set  of  scliolars  (almost  all  either 
clergymen  or  professors)  must  liave  been  in  the  presence  of  this 
big-boned,  black-browed,  brawny  stranger,  with  liis  great  flash- 
ing eyes,  who,  having  forced  his  way  among  them  from  the 
ph)ugh-tail  at  a  single  stride,  manifested  in  tlie  wliole  strain  of  30 
his  bearing  and  conversation  a  most  thorough  conviction,  that 

in  the  society  of  the  most  eminent  men  of  his  nation  lie  was 
exactly  where  lie  was  entitled  to  be  ;  hardly  deigned  to  flatter 
tliem  by  exhibiting  even  an  occasional  symptom  of  being  flattered 
by  their  notice  ;  by  turns  calmly  measured  himself  against  the  35 


44  BUIiJVS 

most  cultivated  understandings  of  liis  time  in  discussion;  over- 
powered tlie  honmots  of  the  most  celebrated  convivialists  by  broad 
floods  of  merriment,  impregnated  with  all  the  burning  life  of 
genius;  astounded  bosoms  habitually  enveloped  in  the  thrice- 
5  piled  folds  of  social  reserve,  by  compelling  them  to  tremble, — 
nay,  to  tremble  visibly, — beneath  the  fearless  touch  of  natural 
pathos;  and  all  this  without  indicating  the  smallest  willingness 
to  be  ranked  among  those  professional  ministers  of  excitement, 
who  are  content  to  be  paid  in  money  and  smiles  for  doing  what 

10  the  spectators  and  auditors  would  be  ashamed  of  doing  in  their 
own  persons,  even  if  they  had  the  power  of  doing  it ;  and  last, 
and  probably  worst  of  all,  who  was  known  to  be  in  the  habit  of 
enlivening  societies  which  they  would  have  scorned  to  approach, 
still  more  frequently  than  their  own,  with  eloquence  no  less  mag- 

15  nificent;  with  wit,  in  all  likelihood  still  more  daring;  often 
enough,  as  the  superiors  whom  he  fronted  without  alarm  might 
have  guessed  from  the  beginning,  and  had  ere  long  no  occasion 
to  guess,  with  wit  pointed  at  themselves." 

46.  The  farther  we  remove  from  this  scene^  the  more 
20  singular  will  it  seem  to  us :  details  of  the  exterior  aspect  of 

it  are  already  full  of  interest.  Most  readers  recollect  Mr. 
Walker's  personal  interviews  with  Burns  as  among  the  best 
passages  of  his  Narrative :  a  time  will  come  when  this  re- 
miniscence of  Sir  Walter  Scott's,  slight  though  it  is,  will 
25  also  be  precious: 

47.  "  As  for  Burns,"  writes  Sir  Walter,  "I  may  truly  say,  Vir- 
gilium  mdi  tantum.  I  was  a  lad  of  fifteen  in  1786-7,  when  he 
came  first  to  Edinburgh,  but  had  sense  and  feeling  enough  to  be 
much  interested  in  his  poetry,  and  would  have  given  the  world 

30  to  know  him:  but  I  had  very  little  acquaintance  wath  any  literary 
people,  and  still  less  with  the  gentry  of  the  west  country,  the  two 
sets  that  he  most  frequented.  Mr.  Thomas  Grierson  was  at  that 
time  a  clerk  of  my  father's.  He  knew  Burns,  and  promised  to 
ask  him  to  his  lodgings  to  dinner;  but  had  no  opportunity  to 

35  keep  his  word ;  otherwise  I  might  have  seen  more  of  this  distin- 
guished man.     As  it  was,  I  saw  him  one  day  at  the  late  venerable 


BURNS  45 

Professor  Ferguson's,  where  there  were  several  gentlemen  of  lite- 
niry  reputation,  among  whom  I  remember  the  celebrated  Mr. 
Dugald  Stewart.  Of  course,  we  youngsters  sat  silent,  looked 
and  listened.  The  only  thing  I  remember  which  was  remarkable 
in  Burns's  manner,  was  the  effect  produced  upon  him  by  a  print  5 
of  Bunbury's,  representing  a  soldier  lying  dead  on  the  snow,  his 
dog  sitting  in  misery  on  one  side, — on  the  other,  his  widow,  with 
a  child  in  her  arms.     These  lines  were  written  beneath : 

'  Cold  on  Canadian  hills,  or  Minden's  plain, 
Perhaps  that  mother  wept  her  soldier  slain  ;  10 

Bent  o'er  her  babe,  her  eye  dissolved  in  dew, 
The  big  drops  mingling  with  the  milk  he  drew, 
Gave  the  sad  presage  of  his  future  years, 
The  child  of  misery  baptised  in  tears.' 

48.  "Burns  seemed  much  affected  by  the  print,  or  rather  by  15 
the  ideas  which  it  suggested  to  his  mind.     He  actually  shed  tears. 
He  asked  whose  the  lines  were ;  and  it  chanced  that  nobody  but 
myself  remembered  that  they  occur   in   a  half -forgotten   poem 

of  Langhorne's  called  by  the  unpromising  title  of  'The  Justice 
of  Peace.'     I  whispered  my  information  to  a  friend  present;  he  20 
mentioned  it  to  Burns,  who  rewarded  me  with  a  look  and  a  word, 
which,  though  of  mere  civility,  I  then  received  and  still  recollect 
with  very  great  pleasure. 

49.  "His  person  was  strong  and  robust;  his  manners  rustic,      \ 
not  clownish;  a  sort  of  dignified  plainness  and  simplicity,  which  25 
received  part  of  its  effect  perhaps  from  one's  knowledge  of  his 
extraordinary  talents.     His  features  are  represented  in  Mr.  Nas- 
myth's  picture :  but  to  me  it  conveys  the  idea  that  they  are  di- 
minished, as  if  seen  in  perspective.     I  think  his  countenance  was 
more  massive  than  it  looks  in  any  of  the  portraits.     I  should  have  30 
taken  the  poet,  had  I  not  known  what  he  was,  for  a  very  saga- 
cious country  farmer  of  the  old  Scotch  school,  i.  e.  none  of  your 
modern  agriculturists  who  keep  labourers   for   their   drudgery, 
but  the  douce  gudeman  who  held  his  own  plough.     There  was  a 
strong  expression  of  sense  and  shrewdness  in  all  his  lineaments;  35 
the  eye  alone,  I  think,  indicated  the  poetical  character  and  tem- 
perament.    It  was  large,  and  of  a  dark  cast,  which  glowed  (I  say 


46  BURNS 

literally  glowed)  when  he  spoke  with  feeling  or  interest.  I  never 
saw  sucli  anotlier  eye  in  a  human  liead,  tliough  I  have  seen  the 
most  distinguished  men  of  my  time.  His  conversation  expressed 
perfect  self-confidence,  w^ithout  the  slightest  presumption.  Among 
5  the  men  wlio  were  the  most  learned  of  their  time  and  country,  he 
expressed  himself  with  perfect  firmness,  but  witliout  the  least  in- 

.    I  trusive  forwardness;  and  when  he  differed  in  opinion,  he  did  not 

•  hesitate  to  express  it  firmly,  yet  at  the  same  time  with  modesty. 

I  do  not  remember  nny  part  of  his  conversation  distinctly  enough 

10  to  be  quoted;  nor  did  I  ever  see  him  again,  except  in  the  street, 
where  he  did  not  recognise  me,  as  I  could  not  expect  he  should. 
He  was  much  caressed  in  Edinburgh :  but  (considering  what  lite- 
rary emoluments  have  been  since  his  day)  the  efforts  made  for 
his  relief  were  extremely  trifling. 

15  50.  "I  remember,  on  this  occasion  I  mention,  I  thought  Burns's 
acquaintance  with  English  poetry  was  rather  limited ;  and  also 
that,  having  twenty  times  the  abilities  of  Allan  Ramsay  and  of 
Ferguson,  he  talked  of  them  with  too  much  humility  as  his  mo- 
dels: there  was  doubtless  national  predilection  in  liis  estimate. 

20  51.  "This  is  all  I  can  tell  you  about  Burns.  I  have  only  to 
add,  that  his  dress  corresponded  with  his  manner.  He  was  like 
a  farmer  dressed  in  his  best  to  dine  with  the  laird.  I  do  not 
'speak  in  malam  partem^  when  I  say,  I  never  saw  a  man  in  com- 
pany with  his  superiors  in  station  or  information  more  perfectly 

25  free  from  either  the  reality  or  the  affectation  of  embarrassment. 
I  was  told,  but  did  not  observe  it,  that  his  address  to  females  was 
extremely  deferential,  and  always  with  a  turn  either  to  the  pa- 
thetic or  humorous,  which  engaged  their  attention  particularly. 
I  have  heard  the  late  Duchess  of  Gordon  remark  this. — I  do  not 

30  know  anything  I  can  add  to  these  recollections  of  forty  years 
since." 

52.  The  conduct  of  Burns  under  this  dazzling  blaze  of 
favour;  the  calm,  unaffected,  manly  manner  in  which  he 
not  only  bore  it,  but  estimated  its  value,  has  justly  been  re- 
35  garded  as  the  best  proof  that  could  be  given  of  his  real  vi- 
gour and  integrity  of  mind.  A  little  natural  vanity,  some 
touches  of  hypocritical  modesty,  some  glimmerings  of  af- 


BURNS  47 

fectation,  at  least  some  fear  of  being  thought  affected,  we 
could  have  pardoned  in  almost  any  man;  but  no  such  indica- 
tion is  to  be  traced  here.  In  his  unexampled  situation  the 
young  peasant  is  not  a  moment  perplexed;  so  many  strange 
lights  do  not  confuse  him,  do  not  lead  him  astray.  Never-  5 
theless,  we  cannot  but  perceive  that  this  winter  did  him 
great  and  lasting  injury.  A  somewhat  clearer  knowledge 
of  men's  affairs,  scarcely  of  their  characters,  it  did  afford 
him;  but  a  sharper  feeling  of  Fortune's  unequal  arrange- 
ments in  their  social  destiny  it  also  left  with  him.  He  had  10 
seen  the  gay  and  gorgeous  arena,  in  which  the  powerful 
are  born  to  play  their  parts;  nay  had  himself  stood  in 
the  midst  of  it;  and  he  felt  more  bitterly  than  ever,  that 
here  he  was  but  a  looker-on,  and  had  no  part  or  lot  in  that 
splendid  game.  From  this  time  a  jealous  indignant  fear  15 
of  social  degradation  takes  possession  of  him ;  and  perverts, 
so  far  as  aught  could  pervert,  his  private  contentment,  and 
his  feelings  towards  his  richer  fellows.  It  was  clear  to 
Burns  that  he  had  talent  enough  to  make  a  fortune,  or  a 
hundred  fortunes,  could  he  but  have  rightly  willed  this;  20 
it  was  clear  also  that  he  willed  something  far  different,  and 
therefore  could  not  make  one.  Unhappy  it  was  that  he 
had  not  power  to  choose  the  one,  and  reject  the  other; 
but  must  halt  forever  between  two  opinions,  two  objects; 
making  hampered  advancement  towards  either.  But  so  25 
it  is  with  many  men:  we  '^long  for  the  merchandise,  yet 
would  fain  keep  the  price;"  and  so  stand  chaffering  with 
Fate,  in  vexatious  altercation,  till  the  night  come,  and  our 
fair  is  over! 

53.  The  Edinburgh  Learned  of  that  period  were  in  gen-  30 
eral  more  noted  for  clearness  of  head  than  for  warmth 
of  heart:  with  the  exception  of  the  good  old  Blacklock, 
whose  help  was  too  ineffectual,  scarcely  one  among  them 
seems  to  have  looked  at  Burns  with  any  true  sympathy,  or 
indeed  much  otherwise  than  as  at  a  highly  curious  thing,  35 


48  BURNS 

By  the  great  also  he  is  treated  in  the  customary  fashion; 
entertained  at  their  tables  and  dismissed:  certain  modica 
of  pudding  and  praise  are^,  from  time  to  time,  gladly  ex- 
changed for  the  fascination  of  his  presence ;  which  exchange 
5  once  effected,  the  bargain  is  finished,  and  each  party  goes 
his  several  way.  At  the  end  of  this  strange  season,  Burns 
gloomily  sums  up  his  gains  and  losses,  and  meditates  on 
the  chaotic  future.  In  money  he  is  somewhat  richer;  in 
fame  and  the  show  of  happiness,  infinitely  richer;  but  in 

10  the  substance  of  it,  as  poor  as  ever.  Nay  poorer;  for  his 
heart  is  now  maddened  still  more  with  the  fever  of  worldly 
Ambition;  and  through  long  years  the  disease  will  rack 
him  with  unprofitable  sufferings,  and  weaken  his  strength 
for  all  true  and  nobler  aims. 

15  54.  What  Burns  was  next  to  do  or  to  avoid ;  how  a  man  so 
circumstanced  was  now  to  guide  himself  towards  his  true 
advantage,  might  at  this  point  of  time  have  been  a  question 
for  the  wdsest.  It  was  a  question  too,  which  apparently  he 
was  left  altogether  to  answer  for  himself :  of  his  learned  or 

20  rich  patrons  it  had  not  struck  any  individual  to  turn  a 
thought  on  this  so  trivial  matter.  Without  claiming  for 
Burns  the  praise  of  perfect  sagacity,  we  must  say,  that  his 
Excise  and  Farm  scheme  does  not  seem  to  us  a  very  un- 
reasonable one;  that  we  should  be  at  a  loss,  even  now,  to 

25  suggest  one  decidedly  better.  Certain  of  his  admirers  have 
felt  scandalised  at  his  ever  resolving  to  gauge  ;  and  would 
have  had  him  lie  at  the  pool,  till  the  spirit  of  Patron- 
age stirred  the  waters,  that  so,  with  one  friendly  plunge, 
all   his   sorrows   might   be   healed.     Unwise    counsellors! 

30  They  know  not  the  manner  of  this  spirit;  and  how,  in  the 
lap  of  most  golden  dreams,  a  man  might  have  happiness, 
were  it  not  that  in  the  interim  he  must  die  of  hunger!  It 
reflects  credit  on  the  manliness  and  sound  sense  of  Burns, 
that  he  felt  so  early  on  what  ground  he  was  standing;  and 

35  preferred  self-help,  on  the  humblest  scale,  to  dependence 


BURIES  49 

and  inaction,  though  with  hope  of  far  more  splendid  pos- 
sibilities. But  even  these  possibilities  were  not  rejected  in 
his  scheme :  he  might  expect,  if  it  chanced  that  he  had  any 
friend,  to  rise,  in  no  long  period,  into  something  even  like 
opulence  and  leisure;  while  again,  if  it  chanced  that  he  5 
had  no  friend,  he  could  still  live  in  security;  and  for  the 
rest,  he  ''  did  not  intend  to  borrow  honour  from  any  pro- 
fession." We  reckon  that  his  plan  was  honest  and  well- 
calculated:  all  turned  on  the  execution  of  it.  Doubtless 
it  failed;  yet  not,  we  believe,  from  any  vice  inherent  in  10 
itself.  Nay,  after  all,  it  was  no  failure  of  external  means, 
but  of  internal,  that  overtook  Burns.  His  was  no  bank- 
ruptcy of  the  purse,  but  of  the  soul;  to  his  last  day,  he 
owed  no  man  anything. 

55.  Meanwhile  he  begins  well :  with  two  good  and  wise  15 
actions.     His  donation  to  his  mother,  munificent  from  a 
man  whose  income  had  lately  been  seven  pounds  a-year, 
was  worthy  of  him,  and  not  more  than  worthy.     Generous 
also,  and  worthy  of  him,  was  the  treatment  of  the  woman 
whose  life's  welfare  now  depended  on  his  pleasure.      A  20 
friendly  observer  might  have  hoped  serene  days  for  him: 
his  mind  is  on  the  true  road  to  peace  with  itself :  what 
clearness  he  still  wants  will  be  given  as  he  proceeds;  for 
the   best  teacher   of   duties,   that   still   lie   dim  to  us,   is 
the  Practice  of  those  we  see  and  have  at  hand.     Had  the  i25 
*' patrons  of  genius,"  who  could  give  him  nothing,  but 
taken  nothing  from  him,  at  least   nothing    more!     The 
wounds  of  his  heart  would  have  healed,  vulgar  ambition 
would  have  died  away.     Toil  and  Frugality  would  have 
been  welcome,  since  Virtue  dwelt  with  them;  and  Poetry  30 
would  have  shone  through  them  as  of  old :  and  in  her  clear 
ethereal  light,  which  was  his  own  by  birthright,  he  might 
have  looked  down  on  his  earthly  destiny,  and  all  its  ob- 
structions, not  with  patience  only,  but  with  love. 

56.  But  the  patrons  of  genius  would  not  have  it  so.  35 

4 


50  BUENS 

Picturesque  tourists/  all  manner  of  fashionable  danglers 
after  literature,  and,  far  worse,  all  manner  of  convivial 
Maecenases,  hovered  round  him  in  his  retreat ;  and  his  good 
as  well  as  his  weak  qualities  secured  them  influence  over 
5  him.  He  was  flattered  by  their  notice;  and  his  warm  so- 
cial nature  made  it  impossible  for  him  to  shake  them  off, 
and  hold  on  his  way  apart  from  them.      These  men,  as 

^  we  believe,  were  proximately  the  means  of  his  ruin.  Not 
that  they  meant  him  any  ill;  they  only  meant  themselves  a 

10  little  good;  if  he  suffered  harm,  let  him  look  to  it!  But 
they  wasted  his  precious  time  and  his  precious  talent;  they 
disturbed  his  composure,  broj^e  down  his  returning  habits 
of  temperance  and  assiduous  contented  exertion.  Their 
pampering  was  baneful  to  him ;  their  cruelty,  which  soon 

15  followed,  was  equally  baneful.  The  old  grudge  against 
Fortune's  inequality  awoke  with  new  bitterness  in  their 
neighbourhood;  and  Burns  had  no  retreat  but  to  ''the 
Eock  of  Independence,"  which  is  but  an  air-castle  after 
all,  that  looks  well  at  a  distance,  but  will  screen  no  one 

20  from  real  wind  and  wet.  Flushed  with  irregular  excite- 
ment, exasperated  alternately  by  contempt  of  others,  and 

^  There  is  one  little  sketch  by  certain  "  English  gentlemen  "  of  this 
class,  which,  though  adopted  in  Carrie's  Narrative,  and  since  then 
repeated  in  most  others,  we  have  all  along  felt  an  invincible  dispo- 
sition to  regard  as  imaginary  :  "On  a  rock  that  projected  into  the 
stream,  they  saw  a  man  employed  in  angling,  of  a  singular  appear- 
ance. He  had  a  cap  made  of  fox-skin  on  his  head,  a  loose  greatcoat 
fixed  round  him  by  a  belt,  from  which  depended  an  enormous  High- 
land broad-sword.  It  was  Burns."  Now,  we  rather  think,  it  was 
not  Burns.  For,  to  say  nothing  of  the  fox-skin  cap,  the  loose  and 
quite  Hibernian  watchcoat  with  the  belt,  what  are  we  to  make  of  this 
"enormous  Highland  broad-sword "  depending  from  him?  More 
especially,  as  there  is  no  word  of  parish  constables  on  the  outlook  to 
see  whether,  as  Dennis  phrases  it,  he  had  an  eye  to  his  own  midriff 
or  that  of  the  public  !  Burns,  of  all  men,  had  the  least  need,  and 
the  least  tendency,  to  seek  for  distinction,  either  in  his  own  eyes,  or 
those  of  others,  by  such  poor  mummeries. — CarlyWs  7iote. 


BURNS  51 

contempt  of  himself,  Burns  was  no  longer  regaining  his 
peace  of  mind,  but  fast  losing  it  forever.  There  was  a 
hollowness  at  the  heart  of  his  life,  for  his  conscience  did 
not  now  approve  what  he  was  doing. 

57.  Amid  the  vapours  of  unwise  enjoyment,  of  bootless  5 
remorse,  and  angry  discontent  with  Fate,  his  true  loadstar, 
a  life  of  Poetry,  with  Poverty,  nay  with  Famine  if  it  must 
be  so,  was  too  often  altogether  hidden  from  his  eyes.  And 
yet  he  sailed  a  sea,  where  without  some  such  loadstar  there 
was  no  right  steering.  Meteors  of  French  Politics  rise  10 
before  him,  but  these  were  not  his  stars.  An  accident 
this,  which  hastened,  but  did  not  originate,  his  worst  dis- 
tresses. In  the  mad  contentions  of  that  time,  he  comes 
in  collision  with  certain  official  Superiors;  is  wounded  by 
them;  cruelly  lacerated,  we  should  say,  could  a  dead  me-  15 
chanical  implement,  in  any  case,  be  called  cruel:  and 
shrinks,  in  indignant  pain,  into  deeper  self -seclusion,  into 
gloomier  moodiness  than  ever.  His  life  has  now  lost  its 
unity :  it  is  a  life  of  fragments ;  led  with  little  aim,  be- 
yond the  melancholy  one  of  securing  its  own  continu-  20 
ance, — in  fits  of  wild  false  joy  when  such  offered,  and  of 
black  despondency  when  they  passed  away.  His  charac- 
ter before  the  world  begins  to  suffer:  calumny  is  busy 
with  him;  for  a  miserable  man  makes  more  enemies  than 
friends.  Some  faults  he  has  fallen  into,  and  a  thousand  25 
misfortunes;  but  deep  criminality  is  what  he  stands  ac- 
cused of,  and  they  that  are  not  without  sin  cast  the  first 
stone  at  him!  For  is  he  not  a  well-wisher  to  the  French 
Revolution,  a  Jacobin,  and  therefore  in  that  one  act  guilty 
of  all  ?  These  accusations,  political  and  moral,  it  has  since  30 
appeared,  were  false  enough :  but  the  world  hesitated  little 
to  credit  them.  Nay  his  convivial  Mgecenases  themselves 
were  not  the  last  to  do  it.  There  is  reason  to  believe  that, 
in  his  later  years,  the  Dumfries  Aristocracy  had  partly 
withdrawn  themselves  from  Burns,  as  from  a  tainted  per-  35 


52  BURNS 

son,  no  longer  worthy  of  their  acquaintance.  That  j)ain- 
ful  class,  stationed,  in  all  provincial  cities,  behind  the  out- 
most breastwork  of  Gentility,  there  to  stand  siege  and  do 
battle  against  the  intrusions  of  Grrocerdom  and  Grazier- 
5  dom,  had  actually  seen  dishonour  in  the  society  of  Burns, 
and  branded  him  with  their  veto;  had,  as  we  vulgarly  say, 
cut  him !  We  find  one  passage  in  this  Work  of  Mr.  Lock- 
hart's,  which  will  not  out  of  our  thoughts: 

58.  "A  gentleman  of  that  county,  whose  name  I  have  already 
10  more  than  once  had  occasion  to  refer  to,  has  often  told  me  that 

he  was  seldom  more  grieved,  than  when  riding  into  Dumfries 
one  fine  summer  evening  about  this  time  to  attend  a  county  ball, 
he  saw  Burns  walking  alone,  on  the  shady  side  of  the  principal 
street  of  the  town,  while  the  opposite  side  was  gay  with  suc- 

15  cessive  groups  of  gentlemen  and  ladies,  all  drawn  together  for 
the  festivities  of  the  night,  not  one  of  whom  appeared  willing 
to  recognise  him.  The  horseman  dismounted,  and  joined  Burns, 
who  on  his  proposing  to  cross  the  street  said:  'Nay,  nay,  my 
young  friend,  that's  all  over  now  ; '  and  quoted,  after  a  pause, 

20  some  verses  of  Lady  Grizzel  Baillie's  pathetic  ballad : 

*  His  bonnet  stood  ance  fu'  fair  on  his  brow, 
His  auld  ane  look'd  better  than  mony  ane's  new ; 
But  now  he  lets  't  wear  ony  way  it  will  hing, 
And  casts  himsell  dowie  upon  the  corn-bing. 

25  O,  were  we  young  as  we  ance  hae  been. 

We  sud  hae  been  gallopping  down  on  yon  green, 
And  linking  it  ower  the  lily-white  lea! 
And  werena  my  heart  lights  I  wad  die, '  ' 

It  was  little  in  Burns's  character  to  let  his  feelings  on  certain 
30  subjects  escape  in  this  fashion.  He,  immediately  after  reciting 
these  verses,  assumed  the  sprightliness  of  his  most  pleasing  man- 
ner; and  taking  his  young  friend  liome  with  him,  entertained 
him  very  agreeably  till  the  hour  of  the  ball  arrived." 

59.  Alas!  when  we  think  that  Burns  now  sleeps  '^  where 


BUIiNS  53 

bifcter  indignation  can  no  longer  lacerate  his  heart/'*  and 
that  most  of  those  fair  dames  and  frizzled  gentlemen  already 
lie  at  his  side,  where  the  breastwork  of  gentility  is  quite 
thrown  down, — who  would  not  sigh  over  the  thin  delusions 
and  foolish  toys  tliat  divide  heart  from  heart,  and  make  5 
man  unmerciful  to  his  brother ! 

60.  It  was  not  now  to  be  hoped  that  the  genius  of  Burns  ^ 
would  ever  reach  maturity,  or  accomplish  aught  worthy 
of  itself.     His  spirit  was  jarred  in  its  melody;  not  the  soft 
breath  of  natural  feeling,  but  the  rude  hand  of  Fate,  was  10 
now  sweeping  over  the  strings.     And  yet  what  harmony 
was  in  him,  what  music  even  in  his  discords!     How  the 
wild  tones  had  a  charm  for  the  simplest  and  the  wisest; 
and  all  men  felt  and  knew  that  here  also  was  one  of  the 
Gifted !     ''If  he  entered  an  inn  at  midnight,  after  all  the  15 
inmates  were  in  bed,  the  news  of  his  arrival  circulated 
from  the  cellar  to  the  garret;  and  ere  ten  minutes  had 
elapsed,  the  landlord  and  all  his  guests  were  assembled!" 
Some  brief  pure  moments  of  poetic  life  were  yet  appointed 
him,  in  the  composition  of  his  Songs.     We  can  understand  20 
how   he   grasped   at   this   employment;  and  how  too,  he 
spurned  all  other  reward  for  it  but  what  the  labour  itself 
brought  him.     For  the  soul  of  Burns,  though  scathed  and 
marred,  was  yet  living  in  its  full  moral  strength,  though 
sharply  conscious  of  its  errors  and  abasement :  and  here,  25 
in  his  destitution  and  degradation,  was  one  act  of  seeming 
nobleness  and  self -de  voted  ness  left  even  for  him  to  per- 
form.    He  felt  too,  that  with  all  the  ""  thoughtless  follies  " 
that  had  ''laid  him  low,"  the  world  was  unjust  and  cruel  to 
him ;  and  he  silently  appealed  to  another  and  calmer  time.  30 
Not  as  a  hired  soldier,  but  as  a  patriot,  would  he  strive 
for  the  glory  of  his  country :  so  he  cast  from  him  the  poor 
sixpence  a-day,  and  served  zealously  as  a  volunteer.    Let  us 

*  Ubi  scBva  indignatio  cor  ulterius  lacerare  nequit.     Swift's  Epitaph. 
— Carlyle's  note. 


54  BURNS 

not  grudge  him  this  last  hixiiry  of  his  existence ;  let  him  not 
have  appealed  to  us  in  vain !  The  money  was  not  necessary 
to  him ;  he  struggled  through  without  it :  long  since,  these 
guineas  would  have  been  gone,  and  now  the  high-mindedness 
5  of  refusing  them  will  plead  for  him  in  all  hearts  forever. 
61.  We  are  here  arrived  at  the  crisis  of  Burns's  life;  for 
matters  had  now  taken  such  a  shape  with  him  as  could  not 
long  continue.  If  improvement  was  not  to  be  looked  for, 
Nature  could  only  for  a  limited  time  maintain  this  dark 

10  and  maddening  warfare  against  the  world  and  itself.  We 
are  not  medically  informed  whether  any  continuance  of 
years  was,  at  this  period,  probable  for  Burns;  whether  his 
death  is  to  be  looked  on  as  in  some  sense  an  accidental 
event,  or  only  as  the  natural  consequence  of  the  long  series 

15  of  events  that  had  preceded.     The  latter  seems  to  be  the 

likelier  opinion;  and  yet  it  is  by  no  means  a  certain  one. 

At  all  events,  as  we  have  said,  some  change  could  not  be 

very  distant.     Three  gates  of  deliverance,  it  seems  to  us, 

^      were   open  for   Burns:   clear  poetical  activity;  madness; 

20  or  death.  The  first,  with  longer  life,  was  still  possible, 
though  not  probable;  for  physical  causes  were  beginning 
to  be  concerned  in  it:  and  yet  Burns  had  an  iron  resolu- 
tion; could  he  but  have  seen  and  felt,  that  not  only  his 
highest  glory,  but  his  first  duty,  and  the  true  medicine  for 

25  all  his  woes,  lay  here.  The  second  was  still  less  probable; 
for  his  mind  was  ever  among  the  clearest  and  firmest.  So 
the  milder  third  gate  was  opened  for  him :  and  he  passed, 
not  softly  yet  speedily,  into  that  still  country,  where  the 
hail-storms  and  fire-showers  do  not  reach,  and  the  heaviest- 

30  laden  wayfarer  at  length  lays  down  his  load ! 

VI.  62.  Contemplating  this  sad  end  of  Burns,  and  how 
he  sank  unaided  by  any  real  help,  uncheered  by  any  wise 
sympathy,  generous  minds  have  sometimes  figured  to  them- 
selves, with  a  reproachful  sorrow,  that  much  might  have 


BURNS  55 

been  done  for  him;  that   by  counsel,  true  affection  and 
friendly  ministrations,  he  might  have  been  saved  to  him-  x 
self  and  the  world.     We   question  whether  there  is  not 
more  tenderness  of  heart  than  soundness  of  judgment  in  i 
these  suggestions.     It  seems   dubious  to  us  whether  the  '  5 
richest,  wisest,  most  benevolent  individual  could  have  lent 
Burns  any  effectual  help.     Counsel,  which  seldom  profits 
any  one,  he  did  not  need;  in  his  understanding,  he  knew 
the  right  from  the  wrong,  as  well  perhaps  as  any  man  ever 
did;  but  the  persuasion,  which  would  have  availed  him,  lies  10 
not  so  much  in  the  head  as  in  the  heart,  where  no  argument 
or  expostulation  could  have  assisted  much  to  implant  it.    As 
to  money  again,  we  do  not  believe  that  this  was  his  essen- 
tial want;  or  well  see  how  any  private  man  could,  even 
presupposing  Burns's  consent,  have  bestowed  on  him  an  15 
independent  fortune,  with  much  prospect  of  decisive  ad- 
vantage.    It  is  a  mortifying  truth,  that  two  men  in  any 
rank  of  society,  could  hardly  be  found  virtuous  enough  to 
give  money,  and  to  take  it  as  a  necessary  gift,  without 
injury  to  the  moral  entireness  of  one  or  both.     But  so  20 
stands  the  fact:    Friendship,   in  the  old  heroic  sense  of 
that  term,  no  longer  exists;  except  in  the  cases  of  kindred 
or  other  legal  affinity,  it  is  in  reality  no  longer  expected, 
or  recognised  as  a  virtue  among  men.     A  close  observer  of 
manners  has  pronounced  "  Patronage,"  that  is,  pecuniary  25 
or  other  economic   furtherance,  to  be    ^Hwice   cursed;" 
cursing  him  that  gives,  and  him  that  takes!     And  thus, 
in  regard  to  outward  matters  also,  it  has  become  the  rule, 
as  in  regard  to  inward  it  always  was  and  must  be  the  rule, 
that  no  one  shall  look  for  effectual  help  to  another;  but  30 
that  each  shall  rest  contented  with  what  help  he  can  afford 
himself.     Such,  we  say,  is  the  principle  of  modern  Hour 
our;  naturally  enough  growing  out  of  that  sentiment  of 
Pride,  which  we  inculcate  and  encourage  as  the  basis  of 
our  whole  social  morality.     Many  a  poet  has  been  poorer  35 


56  BUENS 

than  Burns;  but  no  one  was  ever  prouder:  we  may  ques- 
tion whether,  without  great  precautions,  even  a  pension 
from  Eoyalty  would  not  have  galled  and  encumbered,  more 
than  actually  assisted  him. 
5      G3.  Still  less,  therefore,  are  we  disposed   to   join  with 
another  class  of  Burns's  admirers,  who  accuse  the  higher 
\  ranks  among  us  of  having  ruined  Burns  by  their  selfish 
I  neglect  of  him.    We  have  already  stated  our  doubts  whether 
direct  pecuniary  help,  had  it  been  offered,  would  have  been 

10  accepted,  or  could  have  proved  very  effectual.  We  shall 
readily  admit,  however,  that  much  was  to  be  done  for  Burns; 
that  many  a  poisoned  arrow  might  have  been  warded  from 
his  bosom ;  many  an  entanglement  in  his  path  cut  asunder  by 
the  hand  of  the  powerful;  and  light  and  heat,  shed  on  him 

15  from  high  places,  would  have  made  his  humble  atmosphere 
more  genial ;  and  the  softest  heart  then  breathing  might 
have  lived  and  died  with  some  fewer  pangs.  Nay,  we  shall 
grant  farther,  and  for  Burns  it  is  granting  much,  that,  with 
all  his  pride,  he  would  have  thanked,  even  with  exagger- 

20  ated  gratitude,  any  one  who  had  cordially  befriended  him : 
patronage,  unless  once  cursed,  needed  not  to  have  been 
twice  so.  At  all  events,  the  poor  promotion  he  desired 
in  his  calling  might  have  been  granted:  it  was  his  own 
scheme,  therefore  likelier  than  any  other  to  be  of  service. 

25  All  this  it  might  have  been  a  luxury,  nay  it  was  a  duty, 
for  our  nobility  to  have  done.  N"o  part  of  all  this,  how- 
ever, did  any  of  them  do;  or  apparently  attempt,  or  wish 
to  do :  so  much  is  granted  against  them.  But  what  then 
is  the  amount  of  their  blame  ?     Simply  that  they  were  men 

30  of  the  world,  and  walked  by  the  principles  of  such  men; 
that  they  treated  Burns,  as  other  nobles  and  other  com- 
moners had  done  other  poets;  as  the  English  did  Shak- 
speare;  as  King  Charles  and  his  Cavaliers  did  Butler,  as 
King  Philip  and  his  Grandees  did  Cervantes.     Do  men 

35  gather  grapes  of  thorns;  or  shall  we  cut  down  our  thorns 


BURNS  57 

for  yielding  only  a  fence  and  haws  ?  How,  indeed,  could 
the  '' nobility  and  gentry  of  his  native  land"  hold  out 
any  help  to  this  ''  Scottish  Bard,  proud  of  his  name  and 
country  "  ?  Were  the  nobility  and  gentry  so  much  as  able 
rightly  to  help  themselves  ?  Had  they  not  their  game  to  5 
preserve;  their  borough  interests  to  strengthen;  dinners, 
therefore,  of  various  kinds  to  eat  and  give  ?  Were  their 
means  more  than  adequate  to  all  this  business,  or  less 
than  adequate  ?  Less  than  adequate,  in  general ;  few  of 
them  in  reality  were  richer  than  Burns;  many  of  them  10 
were  poorer;  for  sometimes  they  had  to  wring  their  sup- 
plies, as  with  thumbscrews,  from  tlie  hard  hand;  and,  in 
their  need  of  guineas,  to  forget  their  duty  of  mercy;  which 
Burns  was  never  reduced  to  do.  Let  us  pity  and  forgive 
them.  The  game  they  preserved  and  shot,  the  dinners  15 
they  ate  and  gave,  the  borough  interests  they  strength- 
ened, the  little  Babylons  they  severally  build ed  by  the  glory 
of  their  might,  are  all  melted  or  melting  back  into  the 
primeval  Chaos,  as  man's  merely  selfish  endeavours  are 
fated  to  do:  and  here  was  an  action,  extending,  in  virtue  20 
of  its  worldly  influence,  we  may  say,  through  all  time;  in 
virtue  of  its  moral  nature,  beyond  all  time,  being  immortal 
as  the  Spirit  of  Goodness  itself;  this  action  was  offered 
them  to  do,  and  light  was  not  given  them  to  do  it.  Let 
us  pity  and  forgive  them.  But  better  than  pity,  let  us  go  25 
and  do  otiienvise.  Human  suffering  did  not  end  with  the 
life  of  Burns;  neither  was  the  solemn  mandate,  ''Love 
one  another,  bear  one  another's  burdens,"  given  to  the 
rich  only,  but  to  all  men.  True,  we  shall  find  no  Burns 
to  relieve,  to  assuage  by  our  aid  or  our  pity;  but  celestial  30 
natures,  groaning  under  the  fardels  of  a  weary  life,  we 
shall  still  find ;  and  that  wretchedness  which  Fate  has  ren- 
dered voiceless  and  tuneless  is  not  the  least  wretched,  but 
the  most. 

64.  Still,  we  do  not  think  that  the  blame  of  Burns's  fail-  35 


58  BURNS 

lire  lies  chiefly  with  the  world.  The  world,  it  seems  to 
us,  treated  him  with  more  rather  than  with  less  kindness 
than  it  usnally  shows  to  such  men.  It  has  ever,  we  fear, 
shown  but  small  favour  to  its  Teachers:  hunger  and  na- 
5  kedness,  perils  and  revilings,  the  prison,  the  cross,  the 
poison-chalice  have,  in  most  times  and  countries,  been  the 
market-price  it  has  offered  for  Wisdom,  the  welcome  with 
which  it  has  greeted  those  who  have  come  to  enlighten 
and  purify  it.     Homer  and  Socrates,  and  the   Christian 

10  Apostles,  belong  to  old  days;  but  the  world's  Martyrology 
was  not  completed  with  these.  Eoger  Bacon  and  Galileo 
languish  in  priestly  dungeons;  Tasso  pines  in  the  cell  of  a 
madhouse;  Camoens  dies  begging  on  the  streets  of  Lis- 
bon.    So  neglected,  so  ^'persecuted  they  the  Prophets," 

15  not  in  Judea  only,  but  in  all  places  where  men  have  been. 
We  reckon  that  every  poet  of  Burns's  order  is,  or  should 
be,  a  prophet  and  teacher  to  his  age;  that  he  has  no 
right  to  expect  great  kindness  from  it,  but  rather  is  bound 
to  do  it  great  kindness;  that  Burns,  in  particular,  experi- 

20  enced  fully  the  usual  proportion  of  the  world's  goodness; 

and  that  the  blame  of  his  failure,  as  we  have  said,  lies  not 

chiefly  with  the  world. 

\      65.  Where,  then,  does  it  lie?     We  are  forced  to  answer: 

With  himself;  it  is  his  inward,  not  his  outward  misfor- 

25  tunes  that  bring  him  to  the  dust.  Seldom,  indeed,  is  it 
otherwise  ;  seldom  is  a  life  morally  wrecked  but  the  grand 
cause  lies  in  some  internal  mal-arrangement,  some  want 
less  of  good  fortune  than  of  good  guidance.  Nature  fa- 
shions no  creature  without  implanting  in  it  the  strength 

30  needful  for  its  action  and  duration;  least  of  all  does  she 
so  neglect  her  masterpiece  and  darling,  the  poetic  soul. 
JS'^either  can  we  believe  that  it  is  in  the  power  of  any  ex- 
ternal circumstances  utterly  to  ruin  the  mind  of  a  man; 
nay  if  proper  wisdom  be  given  him,  even  so  much  as  to 

35  affect  its  essential  health  and  beauty.     The  sternest  sum- 


BUHNS  59 

total  of  all  worldly  misfortunes  is  Death;  nothing  more 
can  lie  in  the  cup  of  human  woe:  yet  many  men,  in  all 
ages,  have  triumphed  over  Death,  and  led  it  captive;  con- 
verting its  physical  victory  into  a  moral  victory  for  them- 
selves, into  a  seal  and  immortal  consecration  for  all  that  5 
their  past  life  had  achieved.  What  has  been  done,  may 
be  done  again :  nay,  it  is  but  the  degree  and  not  the  kind 
of  such  heroism  that  differs  in  different  seasons :  for  without 
some  portion  of  this  spirit,  not  of  boisterous  daring,  but  of 
silent  fearlessness,  of  Self-denial  in  all  its  forms,  no  good  10 
man,  in  any  scene  or  time,  has  ever  attained  to  be  good. 

66,  We  have  already  stated  the  error  of   Burns;    and 
mourned  over  it,  rather  than  blamed  it.     It  was  the  want  \ 
of  unity  in  his  purposes,  of  consistency  in  his  aims;  the 
hapless  attempt  to  mingle  in  friendly  union  the  common  15 
spirit  of  the  world  with  the  spirit  of  poetry,  which  is  of  a 
far  different  and  altogether  irreconcilable  nature.     Burns 
was  nothing  wholly,  and  Burns  could  be  nothing,  no  man 
formed  as  he  was  can  be  anything,  by  halves.     The  heart, 
not  of  a  mere  hot-blooded,  popular  Versemonger,  or  poeti-  20 
cal  Restaurateur,  but  of  a  true  Poet  and  Singer,  worthy 

of  the  old  religious  heroic  times,  had  been  given  him :  and 
he  fell  in  an  age,  not  of  heroism  and  religion,  but  of  scep- 
ticism, selfishness  and  triviality,  when  true  Nobleness  was 
little  understood,  and  its  place  supplied  by  a  hollow,  dis-  25 
social,  altogether  barren  and  unfruitful  principle  of  Pride. 
The  influences  of  that  age,  his  open,  kind,  susceptible 
nature,  to  say  nothing  of  his  highly  untoward  situation, 
made  it  more  than  usually  difficult  for  him  to  cast  aside, 
or  rightly  subordinate  ;  the  better  spirit  that  was  within  30 
him  ever  sternly  demanded  its  rights,  its  supremacy:  he 
spent  his  life  in  endeavouring  to  reconcile  these  two ;  and 
lost  it,  as  he  must  lose  it,  without  reconciling  them. 

67.  Burns  was  born  poor;  and  born  also  to  continue       i 
poor,  for  he  would  not  endeavour  to  be  otherwise:   this  35  ! 


60  BURJSS 

it  had  been  well  could  he  have  once  for  all  admitted, 
and  considered  as  finally  settled.  He  was  poor,  truly;  but 
hundreds  even  of  his  own  class  and  order  of  minds  have 
been  poorer,  yet  have  suffered  nothing  deadly  from  it: 
5  nay,  his  own  Father  had  a  far  sorer  battle  with  ungrateful 
destiny  than  his  was  ;  and  he  did  not  yield  to  it,  but  died 
courageously  warring,  and  to  all  moral  intents  prevailing, 
against  it.  True,  Burns  had  little  means,  had  even  little 
time  for  poetry,  his  only  real  pursuit  and  vocation;  but  so 

10  much  the  more  precious  was  what  little  he  had.  In  all 
these  external  respects  his  case  was  hard;  but  very  far 
from  the  hardest.  Poverty,  incessant  drudgery  and  much 
worse  evils,  it  has  often  been  the  lot  of  Poets  and  wise  men 
to  strive  with,  and  their  glory  to  conquer.     Locke  was 

15  banished  as  a  traitor;  and  wrote  his  "  Essay  on  the  Human 
Understanding"  sheltering  himself  in  a  Dutch  garret. 
Was  Milton  rich  or  at  his  ease  when  he  composed  "  Para- 
dise Lost  "  ?  Not  only  low,  but  fallen  from  a  height;  not 
only  poor,  but  impoverished;  in  darkness  and  with  dangers 

20  compassed  round,  he  sang  his  immortal  song,  and  found 
fit  audience,  though  few.  Did  not  Cervantes  finish  his 
work,  a  maimed  soldier  and  in  prison  ?  Nay,  was  not  the 
"  Araucana,"  which  Spain  acknowledges  as  its  Epic,  writ- 
ten without  even  the  aid  of  paper;  on  scraps  of  leather,  as 

25  the  stout  fighter  and  voyager  snatched  any  moment  from 
that  wild  warfare  ? 

68.  And  what,  then,  had  these  men,  which  Burns 
wanted?  Two  things;  both  which,  it  seems  to  us,  are 
indispensable  for  such  men.     They  had  a  true,  religious 

30  principle  of  morals;  and  a  single,  not  a  double  aim  in 
their  activity.  They  were  not  self-seekers  and  self-wor- 
shippers; but  seekers  and  worshippers  of  something  far 
better  than  Self.  Not  personal  enjoyment  was  their  ob- 
ject; but  a  high,  heroic  idea  of  Eeligion,  of  Patriotism,  of 

35  heavenly  Wisdom,  in  one  or  the  other  form,  ever  hovered 


BURNS  61 

before  them ;  in  which  cause  they  neither  shrank  from  suf- 
fering, nor  called  on  the  earth  to  witness  it  as  something 
wonderful;  but  patiently  endured,  counting  it  blessedness 
enough  so  to  spend  and  be  spent.  Thus  the  "  golden- 
calf  of  Self-love,"  however  curiously  carved,  was  not  their  5 
Deity;  but  the  invisible  Goodness,  which  alone  is  man's 
reasonable  service.  This  feeling  was  as  a  celestial  foun- 
tain, whose  streams  refreshed  into  gladness  and  beauty  all 
the  provinces  of  their  otherwise  too  desolate  existence. 
In  a  word,  they  willed  one  thing,  to  which  all  other  10 
things  were  subordinated  and  made  subservient ;  and 
therefore  they  accomplished  it.  The  wedge  will  rend 
rocks;  but  its  edge  must  be  sharp  and  single:  if  it  be 
double,  the  wedge  is  bruised  in  pieces  and  will  rend 
nothing.  15 

69.  Part  of  this  superiority  these  men  owed  to  their  age; 
in  which  heroism  and  devotedness  were  still  practised,  or 
at  least  not  yet  disbelieved  in :  but  much  of  it  likewise 
they  owed  to  themselves.  With  Burns,  again,  it  was  dif- 
ferent. His  morality,  in  most  of  its  practical  points,  is  20 
that  of  a  mere  worldly  man;  enjoyment,  in  a  finer  or 
coarser  shape,  is  the  only  thing  he  longs  and  strives  for.  A 
noble  instinct  sometimes  raises  him  above  this;  but  an 
instinct  only,  and  acting  only  for  moments.  He  has  no 
Eeligion;  in  the  shallow  age,  where  his  days  were  cast,  25 
Eeligion  was  not  discriminated  from  the  New  and  Old 
Light /brm^  of  Eeligion;  and  was,  with  these,  becoming 
obsolete  in  the  minds  of  men.  His  heart,  indeed,  is  alive 
with  a  trembling  adoration,  but  there  is  no  temple  in  his 
understanding.  He  lives  in  darkness  and  in  the  shadow  30 
of  doubt.  His  religion,  at  best,  is  an  anxious  wish;  like 
that  of  Eabelais,  "  a  great  Perhaps." 

70.  He  loved  Poetry  warmly,  and  in  his  heart;  could  he 
but  have  loved  it  purely,  and  with  his  whole  undivided 
heart,  it  had  been  well.     For  Poetry,  as  Burns  could  have  35 


62  BURNS 

followed  it,  is  but  another  form  of  Wisdom,  of  Religion; 
is  itself  Wisdom  and  Eeligion.  But  this  also  was  denied 
him.  His  poetry  is  a  stray  vagrant  gleam,  which  will  not  be 
extinguished  within  him,  yet  rises  not  to  be  the  true  light 
5  of  his  path,  but  is  often  a  wuldfire  that  misleads  him.  It  was 
not  necessary  for  Burns  to  be  rich,  to  be,  or  to  seem,  "  in- 
dependent; "  but  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  be  at  one 
with  his  own  heart;  to  place  what  was  higliest  in  his  na- 
ture highest  also  in  his  life;  "  to  seek  within  himself  for 

10  that  consistency  and  sequence,  which  external  events  would 
forever  refuse  him."  He  was  born  a  poet;  poetry  was  the 
celestial  element  of  his  being,  and  should  have  been  the 
soul  of  his  whole  endeavours.  Lifted  into  that  serene 
ether,  whither  he  had  wings  given  him  to  mount,  he  would 

15  have  needed  no  other  elevation:  poverty,  neglect  and  all 
evil,  save  the  desecration  of  himself  and  his  Art,  were  a 
small  matter  to  him;  the  pride  and  the  passions  of  the 
world  lay  far  beneath  his  feet;  and  he  looked  down  alike  on 
noble  and  slave,   on  prince  and  beggar,  and  all  that  wore 

20  the  stamp  of  man,  with  clear  recognition,  with  brotherly 
affection,  with  sympathy,  with  pity.  Nay,  wo  question 
whether  for  his  culture  as  a  Poet  poverty  and  much  suffer- 
ing for  a  season  were  not  absolutely  advantageous.  Great 
men,  in  looking  back  over  their  lives,  have  testified  to  that 

25  effect.  "  I  would  not  for  much,"  says  Jean  Paul,  "  that 
I  had  been  born  richer."  And  yet  Paul's  birth  was  poor 
enough;  for,  in  another  place,  he  adds:  ''The  prisoner's 
allowance  is  bread  and  water;  and  I  had  often  only  the  lat- 
ter."    But  the  gold  that  is  refined  in  the  hottest  furnace 

30  comes  out  the  purest;  or,  as  he  has  himself  expressed  it, 
"  the  canary-bird  sings  sweeter  the  longer  it  has  been 
trained  in  a  darkened  cage." 

71.  A  man  like  Burns  might  have   divided   his  hours 
between   poetry   and   virtuous  industry;    industry  which 

35  all  true  feeling  sanctions,  nay  prescribes,  and  which  has  a 


BURNS  63 

beauty,  for  that  cause,  beyond  tlie  pomp  of  thrones :  but  to 
divide  his  hours  between  poetry  and  rich  men's  banquets 
was  an  ill-starred  and  inauspicious  attempt.  How  could  he 
be  at  ease  at  such  banquets  ?  What  had  he  to  do  there, 
mingling  his  music  with  the  coarse  roar  of  altogether  5 
earthly  voices;  brightening  the  thick  smoke  of  intoxica- 
tion with  fire  lent  him  from  heaven  ?  Was  it  his  aim  to 
enjoy  life  ?  Tomorrow  he  must  go  drudge  as  an  Excise- 
man !  We  wonder  not  that  Burns  became  moody,  indig- 
nant, and  at  times  an  offender  against  certain  rules  of  10 
society;  but  rather  that  he  did  not  grow  utterly  frantic, 
and  run  amuck  against  them  all.  How  could  a  man,  so 
falsely  placed,  by  his  own  or  others'  fault,  ever  know  con- 
tentment or  peaceable  diligence  for  an  hour  ?  What  he 
did,  under  such  perverse  guidance,  and  what  he  forbore  15 
to  do,  alike  fill  us  with  astonishment  at  the  natural 
strength  and  worth  of  his  character. 

72.  Doubtless  there  was  a  remedy  for  this  perverseness; 
but  not  in  others;  only  in  himself;  least  of  all  in  simple 
increase  of  wealth  and  worldly  ''  respectability."  We  hope  20 
we  have  now  heard  enough  about  the  efficacy  of  wealth  for 
poetry,  and  to  make  poets  happy.  Nay  have  we  not  seen 
another  instance  of  it  in  these  very  days  ?  Byron,  a  man 
of  an  endowment  considerably  less  ethereal  than  that  of 
Burns,  is  born  in  the  rank  not  of  a  Scottish  ploughman,  25 
but  of  an  English  peer:  the  highest  worldly  honours,  the 
fairest  worldly  career,  are  his  by  inheritance;  the  richest 
harvest  of  fame  he  soon  reaps,  in  another  province,  by  his 
own  hand.  And  what  does  all  this  avail  him  ?  Is  he 
happy,  is  he  good,  is  he  true?  Alas,  he  has  a  poet's  soul,  30- 
and  strives  towards  the  Infinite  and  the  Eternal;  and  soon 
feels  that  all  this  is  but  mounting  to  the  house-top  to  reach 
the  stars!  Like  Burns,  he  is  only  a  proud  man;  might, 
like  him,  have  ''purchased  a  pocket-copy  of  Milton  to 
study  the  character  of  Satan;  "  for  Satan  also  is  Byron's  35 


C4  BURNS 

grand  exemplar,  the  hero  of  liis  poetry,  and  the  model 
apparently  of  his  conduct.  As  in  Bnrns's  case  too,  the 
celestial  element  will  not  mingle  with  the  clay  of  earth ; 
both  poet  and  man  of  the  world  he  must  not  be;  vulgar 
5  Ambition  will  not  live  kindly  with  poetic  Adoration;  he 
cannot  serve  God  and  Mammon.  Byron,  like  Burns,  is 
not  liappy;  nay  he  is  the  most  wretched  of  all  men.  His 
life  is  falsely  arranged:  the  fire  that  is  in  him  is  not  a 
strong,  still,  central  fire,  warming  into  beauty  the  products 

10  of  a  world;  but  it  is  the  mad  fire  of  a  volcano;  and  now — 
we  look  sadly  into  the  ashes  of  the  crater,  which  ere  long 
will  fill  itself  with  snow! 

73.   Byron  and  Burns  were  sent  forth  as  missionaries 
to  their  generation,  to  teach  it  a  higher  Doctrine,  a  purer 

15  Truth;  they  had  a  message  to  deliver,  w^hich  left  them  no 
rest  till  it  was  accomplished ;  in  dim  throes  of  pain,  this  di- 
vine behest  lay  smouldering  within  them;  for  they  knew  not 
what  it  meant,  and  felt  it  only  in  mysterious  anticipation, 
and  they  had  to  die  without  articulately  uttering  it.    They 

20  are  in  the  camp  of  the  Unconverted;  yet  not  as  high  mes- 
sengers of  rigorous  though  benignant  truth,  but  as  soft 
flattering  singers,  and  in  pleasant  fellowship  will  they  live 
there:  they  are  first  adulated,  then  persecuted;  they  ac- 
complish little  .for  others;  they  find  no  peace  for  them- 

25  selves,  but  only  death  and  the  peace  of  the  grave.  We 
confess,  it  is  not  without  a  certain  mournful  awe  that  we 
view  the  fate  of  these  noble  souls,  so  richly  gifted,  yet  ru- 
ined to  so  little  purpose  with  all  their  gifts.  It  seems  to 
us  there  is  a  stern  moral  taught  in  this  piece  of  history, — 

30  tioice  told  us  in  our  own  time  !  Surely  to  men  of  like 
genius,  if  there  be  any  such,  it  carries  with  it  a  lesson  of 
deep  impressive  significance.  Surely  it  would  become  such 
a  man,  furnished  for  the  highest  of  all  enterprises,  that  of 
being  the  Poet  of  his  Age,  to  consider  w^ell  what  it  is  that 

35  he  attempts,  and  in  what  spirit  he  attempts  it.     For  the 


BURNS  65 

words  of  Milton  are  true  in  all  times,  and  were  never  truer 
than  in  this:  ^'He  who  would  write  heroic  poems  must 
make  his  whole  life  a  heroic  poem."  If  he  cannot  first  so 
make  his  life,  then  let  him  hasten  from  this  arena;  for 
neither  its  I'ofty  glories,  nor  its  fearful  perils,  are  fit  for  5 
him.  Let  him  dwindle  into  a  modish  balladmonger;  let 
him  worship  and  besing  the  idols  of  the  time,  and  the 
time  will  not  fail  to  Teward  him.  If,  indeed,  he  can  en- 
dure to  live  in  that  capacity  !  Byron  and  Burns  could 
not  live  as  idol-priests,  but  the  fire  of  their  own  hearts  10 
consumed  them;  and  better  it  was  for  them  that  they 
could  not.  For  it  is  not  in  the  favour  of  the  great  or  of  the 
small,  but  in  a  life  of  truth,  and  in  the  inexpugnable  ci- 
tadel of  his  own  soul,  that  a  Byron's  or  a  Burns's  strength 
must  lie.  Let  the  great  stand  aloof  from  him,  or  know  15 
how  to  reverence  him.  Beautiful  is  the  union  of  wealth 
with  favour  and  furtherance  for  literature ;  like  the  costli- 
est flower-jar  enclosing  the  loveliest  amaranth.  Yet  let 
not  the  relation  be  mistaken.  A  true  poet  is  not  one 
whom  they  can  hire  by  money  or  flattery  to  be  a  minister  20 
of  their  pleasures,  their  writer  of  occasional  verses,  their 
purveyor  of  table-wit;  he  cannot  be  their  menial,  he  can- 
not even  be  their  partisan.  At  the  peril  of  both  parties, 
let  no  such  union  be  attempted !  Will  a  Courser  of  the 
Sun  work  softly  in  the  harness  of  a  Dray-horse  ?  His  25 
hoofs  are  of  fire,  and  his  path  is  through  the  heavens, 
bringing  light  to  all  lands;  will  he  lumber  on  mud  high- 
ways, dragging  ale  for  earthly  appetites  from  door  to 
door  ? 

74.  But  we  must  stop  short  in  these  considerations,  30 
which  would  lead  us  to  boundless  lengths.  We  had  some- 
thing to  say  on  the  public  moral  character  of  Burns;  but 
this  also  we  must  forbear.  We  are  far  from  regarding  him 
as  guilty  before  the  world,  as  guiltier  than  the  average; 
nay  from  doubting  that  he  is  less  guilty  than  one  of  ten  35 


66  BUEJSrS 

thousand.  Tried  at  a  tribunal  far  more  rigid  than  that 
where  the  Plebiscita  of  common  civic  reputations  are 
pronounced,  he  has  seemed  to  us  even  there  less  worthy  of 
blame  than  of  pity  and  wonder.  But  the  world  is  habitu- 
5  ally  unjust  in  its  judgments  of  such  men;  unjust  on  many 
grounds,  of  which  this  one  may  be  stated  as  the  substance : 
It  decides,  like  a  court  of  law,  by  dead  statutes;  and  not 
positively  but  negatively,  less  on  what  is  done  right,  than 
on  what  is  or  is  not  done  wrong.     Not  the  few  inches  of 

10  deflection  from  the  mathematical  orbit,  which  are  so  easily 
measured,  but  the  ratio  of  these  to  the  whole  diameter, 
constitutes  the  real  aberration.  This  orbit  may  be  a  pla- 
net's, its  diameter  the  breadth  of  the  solar  system;  or  it 
may  be  a  city  hippodrome;  nay  the  circle  of  a  ginhorse, 

15  its  diameter  a  score  of  feet  or  paces.  But  the  inches  of 
deflection  only  are  measured :  and  it  is  assumed  that  the 
diameter  of  the  ginhorse,  and  that  of  the  planet,  will  yield 
the  same  ratio  when  compared  with  them  !  Here  lies  the 
root   of   many  a  blind,  cruel   condemnation  of  Burnses, 

20  Swifts,  Eousseaus,  which  one  never  listens  to  with  ap- 
proval. Granted,  the  ship  comes  into  harbour  with 
shrouds  and  tackle  damaged;  the  pilot  is  blameworthy; 
he  has  not  been  all-wise  and  all-powerful:  but  to  know 
lioiu  blameworthy,  tell   us  first  whether   his   voyage    has 

25  been  round  the  Globe,  or  only  to  Ramsgate  and  the  Isle  of 
Dogs. 

7§.  With  our  readers  in  general,  with  men  of  right  feel- 
ing anywhere,  we  are  not  required  to  plead  for  Burns.  In 
pitying  admiration  he  lies  enshrined  in  all  our  hearts,  in  a 

30  far  nol:)ler  mausoleum  than  that  one  of  marble;  neither 
will  his  Wo^ks,  jBven  as  they  are,  pass  away  from  the  mem- 
ory of  Vfim-  While  the  Shakspeares  and  Miltons  roll  on 
like  mjglity  rivers  through  the  cpuntry  of  Thought,  bear- 
ing fleets  of  traffickers  and  assiduous  pearjrfishers  on  their 

35  waves;  th^s  little  Valclusa  Forfnjbajin  will  ^}sp  arrest  our 


BURNS  67 

eye:  for  this  also  is  of  Nature's  own  and  most  cunning 
workmanship^  bursts  from  the  depths  of  the  earth,  with  a 
full  gushing  current,  into  the  light  of  day;  and  often  will 
the  traveller  turn  aside  to  drink  of  its  clear  waters,  and 
muse  among  its  rocks  and  pines  ! 


THE    HEKO    AS    MAN    OF    LETTEES— 
ROBERT   BURNS 

Fkom  '^Heroes  aistd  Hero  Worship." 

It  was  a  curious  phenomenon^  in  the  withered^  unbeliev- 
ing, secondhand  Eighteenth  Century,  that  of  a  Hero  start- 
ing up,  among  the  artificial  pasteboard  figures  and  pro; 
d notions,  in  the  guise  of  a  Eobert  Burns.  Like  a  little 
5  well  in  the  rocky  desert  places, — like  a  sudden  splendour 
of  Heaven  in  the  artificial  Vauxhall  !  People  knew  not 
what  to  make  of  it.  They  took  it  for  a  piece  of  the  Vaux- 
hall fire-work;  alas,  it  let  itself  be  so  taken,  though  strug- 
gling half-blindly,  as  in  bitterness  of  death,  against  that  ! 

10  Perhaps  no  man  had  such  a  false  reception  from  his  fellow- 
men.  Once  more  a  very  wasteful  life-drama  was  enacted 
under  the  sun. 

The  tragedy  of  Burns's   life  is  known  to  all  of   you. 
Surely  we  may  say,  if  discrepancy  between  place  held  and 

15  place  merited  constitute  perverseness  of  lot  for  a  man,  no 
lot  could  be  more  perverse  than  Burns's.  Among  those 
secondhand  acting-figures,  mimes  for  most  part,  of  the 
Eighteenth  Century,  once  more  a  giant  Original  Man;  one 
of  those  men  who  reach  down  to  the  perennial  Deeps,  who 

20  take  rank  with  the  Heroic  among  men :  and  he  was  born 
in  a  poor  Ayrshire  hut.  The  largest  soul  of  all  the  British 
lands  came  among  us  in  the  shape  of  a  hard-handed  Scot- 
tish Peasant. 

His  Father,  a  poor  toiling  man,  tried  various  things;  did 

25  not  succeed  in  any;  was  involved  in  continual  difficulties. 


THE  HERO  AS  MAN  OF  LETTERS  69 

The  Steward,  Factor  as  tlie  Scotch  call  him,  used  to  send 
letters  and  threatenings,  Burns  says,  ''which  threw  us  all 
into  tears. "  The  brave,  hard-toiling,  hard -suffering  Father, 
his  brave  heroine  of  a  wife;  and  those  children,  of  whom 
Robert  was  one!  In  this  Earth,  so  wide  otherwise,  no  5 
shelter  for  ^/^em.  The  letters  "  threw  us  all  into  tears": 
figure  it.  The  brave  Father,  I  say  always; — a  silent  Hero 
and  Poet;  without  whom  the  son  had  never  been  a  speak- 
ing one !  Burns's  Schoolmaster  came  afterwards  to  Lon- 
don, learnt  what  good  society  was;  but  declares  that  in  no  10 
meeting  of  men  did  he  ever  enjoy  better  discourse  than  at 
the  hearth  of  this  peasant.  And  his  poor  ''seven  acres 
of  nursery-ground," — not  that,  nor  the  miserable  patch  of 
clay-farm,  nor  anything  he  tried  to  get  a  living  by,  would 
prosper  with  him;  he  had  a  sore  unequal  battle  all  his  15 
days.  But  he  stood  to  it  valiantly;  a  wise,  faithful,  un- 
conquerable man; — swallo wing-down  how  many  sore  suf- 
ferings daily  into  silence;  fighting  like  an  unseen  Hero, — 
nobody  publishing  newspaper  paragraphs  about  his  noble- 
ness ;  voting  pieces  of  plate  to  him !  However,  he  w^as  20 
not  lost:  nothing  is  lost.  Robert  is  there;  the  outcome  of 
him, — and  indeed  of  many  generations  of  such  as  him. 

This  Burns  appeared  under  every  disadvantage :  unin- 
structed,  poor,  born  only  to  hard  manual  toil;  and  writ- 
ing, when  it  came  to  that,  in  a  rustic  special  dialect,  known  25 
only  to  a  small  province  of  the  country  he  lived  in.  Had 
he  written,  even  what  he  did  write,  in  the  general  language 
of  England,  I  doubt  not  he  had  already  become  universally 
recognised  as  being,  or  capable  to  be,  one  of  our  greatest 
men.  That  he  should  have  tempted  so  many  to  penetrate  30 
through  the  rough  husk  of  that  dialect  of  his,  is  proof  that 
there  lay  something  far  from  common  within  it.  He  has 
gained  a  certain  recognition,  and  is  continuing  to  do  so 
over  all  quarters  of  our  wide  Saxon  world :  wheresoever  a 
Saxon  dialect  is  spoken,  it  begins  to  be  understood,  by  35 


70      THE  HERO  AS  MAN  OF  LETTERS 

personal  inspection  of  this  and  the  other^  that  one  of  the 
most  considerable  Saxon  men  of  the  Eighteenth  century 
was  an  Ayrshire  Peasant  named  Eobert  Barns.  Yes,  I  will 
say,  here  too  was  a  piece  of  the  right  Saxon  stuif :  strong  as 
5  the  Harz-rock,  rooted  in  the  depths  of  the  world; — rock, 
yet  with  wells  of  living  softness  in  it!  A  wild  impetuous 
whirlwind  of  passion  and  faculty  slumbered  quiet  there; 
such  heavenly  melody  dwelling  in  the  heart  of  it.  A  noble 
rough  genuineness;  homely,  rustic,  honest;  true  simplicity 

10  of  strength;  with  its  lightning-fire,  with  its  soft  dewy 
pity; — like  the  old  Norse  Thor,  the  Peasant-god! — 

Burns's  Brother  Gilbert,  a  man  of  much  sense  and 
worth,  has  told  me  that  Kobert,  in  his  young  days,  in 
spite  of  their  hardship,  was  usually  the  gayest  of  speech ; 

15  a  fellow  of  infinite  frolic,  laughter,  sense  and  heart;  far 
pleasanter  to  hear  there,  stript  cutting  peats  in  the  bog, 
or  suchlike,  than  he  ever  afterwards  knew  him.  I  can 
well  believe  it.  This  basis  of  mirth  {'\fond  gaillard,"  as 
old  Marquis  Mirabeau  calls  it),  a  primal-element  of  sun- 

20  shine  and  joyfulness,  coupled  with  his  other  deep  and 
earnest  qualities,  is  one  of  the  most  attractive  character- 
istics of  Burns.  A  large  fund  of  Hope  dwells  in  him; 
spite  of  his  tragical  history,  he  is  not  a  mourning  man. 
He  shakes  his  sorrows  gallantly  aside;  bounds  forth  vic- 

25  torious  over  them.  It  is  as  the  lion  shaking  '^  dew-drops 
from  his  mane;  "  as  the  swift-bounding  horse,  that  laughs 
at  the  shaking  of  the  spear. — But  indeed,  Hope,  Mirth,  of 
the  sort  like  Burns's,  are  they  not  the  outcome  properly  of 
warm  generous  affection, — such  as  is  the  beginning  of  all 

30  to  every  man  ? 

You  would  think  it  strange  if  I  called  Burns  the  most 
gifted  British  soul  we  had  in  all  that  century  of  his:  and 
yet  I  believe  the  day  is  coming  when  there  will  be  little 
danger  in  saying  so.     His  writings,  all  that  he  did  under 

35  such  obstructions,  are  only  a  poor  fragment  of  him.     Pro- 


THE  HERO  AS  MAN  OF  LETTERS  71 

fessor  Stewart  remarked  very  justly,  what  indeed  is  true 
of  all  Poets  good  for  much,  that  his  poetry  was  not  any 
particular  faculty;  but  the  general  result  of  a  naturally 
vigorous  original  mind  expressing  itself  in  that  way. 
Burns's  gifts,  expressed  in  conversation,  are  the  theme  of  o 
all  that  ever  heard  him.  All  kinds  of  gifts:  from  the 
gracefulest  utterances  of  courtesy,  to  the  highest  fire  of 
passionate  speech;  loud  floods  of  mirth,  soft  wailings  of 
affection,  laconic  emphasis,  clear  piercing  insight;  all  was 
in  him.  Witty  duchesses  celebrate  him  as  a  man  whose  10 
speech  ''led  them  off  their  feet."  This  is  beautiful:  but 
still  more  beautiful  that  which  Mr.  Lockhart  has  recorded, 
which  I  have  more  than  once  alluded  to.  How  the  waiters 
and  ostlers  at  inns  would  get  out  of  bed,  and  come  crowd- 
ing to  hear  this  man  speak!  Waiters  and  ostlers : — they  15 
too  were  men,  and  here  was  a  man !  I  have  heard  much 
about  his  speech;  but  one  of  the  best  things  I  ever  heard 
of  it  was,  last  year,  from  a  venerable  gentleman  long  fa- 
miliar with  him.  That  it  was  speech  distinguished  by 
always  having  something  in  it,  ''He  spoke  rather  little  ^0 
than  much,"  this  old  man  told  me;  "sat  rather  silent  in 
those  early  days,  as  in  the  company  of  persons  above  him; 
and  always  when  he  did  speak,  it  was  to  throw  new  light 
on  the  matter."  I  know  not  why  any  one  should  ever 
speak  otherwise! — But  if  we  look  at  his  general  force  of  25 
soul,  his  healthy  rohustness  everyway,  the  rugged  down- 
rightness,  penetration,  generous  valour  and  manfulness 
that  was  in  him, — where  shall  we  readily  find  a  better- 
gifted  man  ? 

Among  the  great  men  of  the  Eighteenth  Century,  I  30 
sometimes  feel  as  if  Burns  might  be  found  to  resemble 
Mirabeau  more  than  any  other.  They  differ  widely  in 
vesture;  yet  look  at  them  intrinsically.  There  is  the  same 
burly  thick-necked  strength  of  body  as  of  soul; — built,  in 
both  cases,  on  what  the  old  Marquis  calls  a  fond  gaillard.  35 


72      THE  HERO  AS  MAN  OF  LETTERS 

By  nature,  by  course  of  breeding,  indeed  by  nation,  Mira- 
beau  has  much  more  of  bluster;  a  noisy,  forward,  unrest- 
ing man.  But  the  characteristic  of  Mirabeau  too  is  vera- 
city and  sense,  power  of  true  insiglit,  superiority  of  vision. 

5  The  thing  that  he  says  is  worth  remembering.  It  is  a  flash 
of  insight  into  some  object  or  other:  so  do  both  these  men 
speak.  The  same  raging  passions;  capable  too  in  both  of 
manifesting  themselves  as  the  tenderest  noble  affections. 
Wit,  wild   laughter,  energy,  directness,    sincerity:    these 

10  were  in  both.  The  types  of  the  two  men  are  not  dissimi- 
lar. Burns  too  could  have  governed,  debated  in  National 
Assemblies;  politicised,  as  few  could.  Alas,  the  courage 
which  had  to  exhibit  itself  in  capture  of  smuggling  schoon- 
ers in  the  Solway  Frith;  in  keeping  silence  over  so  much, 

15  where  no  good  speech,  but  only  inarticulate  rage  was  pos- 
sible: this  might  have  bellowed  forth  Ushers  de  Breze  and 
the  like;  and  made  itself  visible  to  all  men,  in  managing 
of  kingdoms,  in  ruling  of  great  ever-memorable  epochs! 
But  they  said  to  him  reprovingly,  his  Official  Superiors 

20  said,  and  wrote:  ''  You  are  to  work,  not  think."  Of  your 
thinki)ig-tsic\iltj,  the  greatest  in  this  land,  we  have  no 
need;  you  are  to  gauge  beer  there;  for  that  only  are  you 
wanted.  Very  notable; — and  worth  mentioning,  though 
we  know  what  is  to  be  said  and  answered !    As  if  Thought, 

25  Power  of  Thinking,  were  not,  at  all  times,  in  all  places 
and  situations  of  the  world,  precisely  the  thing  that  tvas 
wanted.  The  fatal  man,  is  he  not  always  the  tmthmkmg 
man,  the  man  who  cannot  think  and  see  ;  but  only  grope, 
and  hallucinate,  and  missee  the  nature  of  the  thing  he 

30  works  with?  He  missees  it,  mistakes  it  as  we  say;  takes 
it  for  one  thing,  and  it  is  another  thing, — and  leaves  him 
standing  like  a  Futility  there  !  He  is  the  fatal  man;  un- 
utterably fatal,  put  in  the  high  places  of  men. — ''Why 
complain  of  this?"  say  some:    ''Strength  is  mournfully 

35  denied  its  arena;  that  was  true  from  of  old."     Doubtless; 


THE  HERO   AS  MAN  OF  LETTERS  73 

and  the  worse  for  the  arena,  answer  I!  Complaining 
profits  little;  stating  of  the  truth  may  profit.  That  a 
Europe,  with  its  French  Eevolution  just  breaking  out, 
finds  no  need  of  a  Burns  except  for  gauging  beer, — is  a 
thing  I,  for  one,  cannot  rejoice  at! —  5 

Once  more  we  have  to  say  here,  that  the  chief  quality  of 
Burns  is  the  sincerity  of  him.  So  in  his  Poetry,  so  in  his 
Life.  The  Song  he  sings  is  not  of  fantasticalities;  it  is  of 
a  thing  felt,  really  there;  the  prime  merit  of  this,  as  of  all 
in  him,  and  of  his  Life  generally,  is  truth.  The  Life  of  10 
Burns  is  what  we  may  call  a  great  tragic  sincerity.  A  sort 
of  savage  sincerity, — not  cruel,  far  from  that;  but  wild, 
wrestling  naked  with  the  truth  of  things.  In  that  sense, 
there  is  something  of  the  savage  in  all  great  men. 

Hero-worship, — Odin,  Burns  ?  Well  ;  these  Men  of  15 
Letters  too  were  not  without  a  kind  of  Hero-worship :  but 
what  a  strange  condition  has  that  got  into  now!  The 
waiters  and  ostlers  of  Scotch  inns,  prying  about  the  door, 
eager  to  catch  any  word  that  fell  from  Burns,  were  doing 
unconscious  reverence  to  the  Heroic.  Johnson  had  his  Bos-  20 
well  for  worshipper.  Rousseau  had  worshippers  enough; 
princes  calling  on  him  in  his  mean  garret;  the  great,  the 
beautiful  doing  reverence  to  the  poor  moonstruck  man. 
For  himself  a  most  portentous  contradiction ;  the  two  ends 
of  his  life  not  to  be  brought  into  harmony.  He  sits  at  25 
the  tables  of  grandees;  and  has  to  copy  music  for  his  own 
living.  He  cannot  even  get  his  music  copied.  "  By  dint 
of  dining  out,"  says  he,  "I  run  the  risk  of  dying  by  star- 
vation at  home."  For  his  worshippers  too  a  most  ques- 
tionable thing  !  If  doing  Hero-worship  well  or  badly  be  30 
the  test  of  vital  wellbeing  or  illbeing  to  a  generation,  can 
we  say  that  these  generations  are  very  first-rate? — And  yet 
our  heroic  Men  of  Letters  do  teach,  govern,  are  kings, 
priests,  or  what  you  like  to  call  them ;  intrinsically  there 
is  no  preventing  it  by  any  means  whatever.     The  world  35 


74       THE   HERO  AS  MAN  OF  LETTERS 

has  to  obey  him  who  thinks  and  sees  in  the  world.  The 
world  can  alter  the  manner  of  that;  can  either  have  it  as 
blessed  continuous  summer  sunshine,  or  as  unblessed  black 
thunder  and  tornado, — with  unspeakable  difference  of  pro- 
5  fit  for  the  world  !  The  manner  of  it  is  very  alterable; 
the  matter  and  fact  of  it  is  not  alterable  by  any  power 
under  the  sky.  Light;  or,  failing  that,  lightning:  the 
world  can  take  its  choice.  Not  whether  we  call  an  Odin 
god,  prophet,  priest,  or  what  we  call  him;  but  whether  we 

10  believe  the  word  he  tells  us:  there  it  all  lies.  If  it  be  a 
true  word,  we  shall  have  to  believe  it;  believing  it,  we 
shall  have  to  do  it.  What  name  or  welcome  we  give  him 
or  it,  is  a  point  that  concerns  ourselves  mainly.  It,  the 
new  Truth,  new  deeper  revealing  of  the  Secret  of   this 

15  Universe,  is  verily  of  the  nature  of  a  message  from  on 
high;  and  must  and  will  have  itself  obeyed. — 

My  last  remark  is  on  that  notablest  phasis  of  Burns's 
history, — his  visit  to  Edinburgh.  Often  it  seems  to  me  as 
if  his  demeanour  there  were  the  highest  proof  he  gave  of 

20  what  a  fund  of  worth  and  genuine  manhood  was  in  him. 
If  we  think  of  it,  few  heavier  burdens  could  be  laid  on 
the  strength  of  a  man.  So  sudden ;  all  common  Lio7iism, 
which  ruins  innumerable  men,  was  as  nothing  to  this.  It 
is  as  if  Napoleon  had  been  made  a  King  of,  not  gradually, 

25  but  at  once  from  the  Artillery  Lieutenancy  in  the  Eegi- 
ment  La  F^re.  Burns,  still  only  in  his  twenty-seventh 
year,  is  no  longer  even  a  ploughman;  he  is  flying  to  the 
West  Indies  to  escape  disgrace  and  a  jail.  This  month  he 
is  a  ruined  peasant,  his  wages  seven  pounds  a  year,  and 

30  these  gone  from  him :  next  month  he  is  in  the  blaze  of  rank 
and  beauty,  handing  down  jewelled  Duchesses  to  dinner; 
the  cynosure  of  all  eyes  !  Adversity  is  sometimes  hard 
upon  a  man;  but  for  one  man  who  can  stand  prosperity, 
there  are  a  hundred  that  will  stand  adversity.     I  admire 

35  muoh  the  way  in  which   Burns   met   all   this.     Perhaps 


THE  HERO  AS  MAN  OF  LETTERS  75 

no  man  one  could  point  out,  was  ever  so  sorely  tried, 
and  so  little  forgot  himself.  Tranquil,  unastonished ;  not 
abashed,  not  inflated,  neither  awkwardness  nor  affectation: 
he  feels  that  he  there  is  the  man  Robert  Burns;  that  the 
"  rank  is  but  the  guinea-stamp;  "  that  the  celebrity  is  but  5 
the  candle-light,  which  will  show  ivhat  man,  not  in  the 
least  make  him  a  better  or  other  man!  Alas,  it  may  readi- 
ly, unless  he  look  to  it,  make  him  a  worse  man;  a  wretched 
inflated  wind-bag, — inflated  till  he  hurst,  and  become  a 
dead  lion;  for  whom,  as  some  one  has  said,  'Hhere  is  no  10 
resurrection  of  the  body;"  worse  than  a  living  dog! — 
Burns  is  admirable  here. 

And  yet,  alas,  as  I  have  observed  elsewhere,  these  Lion- 
hunters  were  the  ruin  and  death  of  Burns.  It  was  they 
that  rendered  it  impossible  for  him  to  live!  They  ga-  15 
thered  around  him  in  his  Farm;  hindered  his  industry; 
no  place  was  remote  enough  from  them.  He  could  not  get 
his  Lionism  forgotten,  honestly  as  he  was  disposed  to  do 
so.  He  falls  into  discontents,  into  miseries,  faults;  the 
world  getting  ever  more  desolate  for  him;  health,  charac-  20 
ter,  peace  of  mind  all  gone; — solitary  enough  now.  It  is 
tragical  to  think  of!  These  men  came  but  to  see  him;  it 
was  out  of  no  sympathy  with  him,  nor  no  hatred  to  him. 
They  came  to  get  a  little  amusement:  they  got  their 
amusement; — and  the  Hero's  life  went  for  it!  25 

Richter  says,  in  the  Island  of  Sumatra  there  is  a  kind  of 
"Light-chafers,"  large  Fire-flies,  which  people  stick  upon 
spits,  and  illuminate  the  ways  with  at  night.  Persons  of 
condition  can  thus  travel  with  a  pleasant  radiance,  which 
they  much  admire.  Great  honour  to  the  Fire-flies!  30 
But—!— 


EXPLANATORY  NOTES 

1  2.  Butler,  Samuel  Butler  (1G12-1680),  autlior  of  Hudibras, 
a  witty,  mock-epic  poem,  of  which  Carlyle  was  very  fond,  satir- 
izing the  Puritans.  The  poem  attained  great  popularity,  but 
the  author  was  neglected,  and  died  in  poverty. 

1  6.  Spinning-jenny.  A  macliine  invented  in  1767  that  opened 
tlie  way  for  great  improvements  in  the  manufacture  of  cotton. 
The  inventor,  James  Hargreaves,  did  not  reap  "his  reward  in 
his  own  day."  His  patent  was  set  aside,  and  he  died  a  poor 
man. 

1  13.  Prime  of  his  manhood.  See  Introduction,  iv.,  or  Chrono- 
logical Table. 

1  14.  Brave  mausoleum.  In  the  churcliyard  at  Dumfries. 
Notice  the  somewhat  unusual  sense  in  which  l)rave  is  here  used. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  tlie  monument  is  covered  with  a  tin  dome, 
and  Carlyle  may  liave  been  punning  when  he  speaks  of  the 
mausoleum  as  "  shining"  over  his  dust.  There  is  certainly  irony 
in  his  "  brave." 

1  21.  Lockhart.  Jolui  Gibson  Lockhart  (1794-1854)  is  best 
known  from  his  famous  biography  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  whose 
son-in-law  he  was. 

2  1 .  No  man  .  .  .  is  a  hero  to  his  valet.  An  epigram  com- 
monly attributed  to  Madame  de  Sevign^,  but  its  origin  is 
doubtful. 

2  10.  Sir  Thomas  Lucy^s.  The  legend  is  that  Sir  Thomas 
prosecuted  Shakspere,  then  a  young  man,  for  "deer-stealing" 
on  his  estate,  near  Stratford.  The  poet  is  said  to  have  revenged 
himself  by  composing  an  abusive  balhid  upon  his  prosecutor, 
and  then  to  have  fled  to  London  to  escape  the  consequences  of 
his  boldness.       JoJin  a  Combe's.      Jolm  a  Combe  was  a  wcaltliy 


EXPLA  NA  TOR  Y  NO TES  77 

neighbor  of  Shakspere's  at  Stratford,  supposed  also  to  have 
been  an  object  of  liis  satire.     A  is  another  spelling  of  o\  of, 

2  14.  The  wool-trade.  The  woollen  industry  was  then  the 
largest  in  England,  and  a  natural  subject  of  conversation  between 
country  gentlemen. 

2  17.  Bowels.  We  now  usually  say  **  heart,"  but  the  expression 
was  then  a  common  one.  See  the  concordance  to  the  Bible,  and 
the  Century  Dictionary, 

2  20.  Caledonian  Hunt.  An  aristocratic  organization  of  Scotch 
noblemen  and  gentlemen. 

2  22.  Ayr  Writers.  The  word  ''writer"  is  applied  in  Scot- 
land to  lawyers  and  legal  agents,  as  well  as  sometimes  to  their 
chief  clerks.  New  and  Old  Light  Clergy.  The  two  parties  into 
which  the  church  in  Scotland  was  divided.  The  ''  New  Lights  " 
were  the  more  liberal  and  progressive,  while  the  ' '  Auld  Lights  " 
were  more  conservative,  holding  strict  Calvinistic  views.  See 
Introduction,  iv. 

3  33.  ConstabWs  Miscellany.  A  series  of  original  and  of 
standard  works  reprinted  in  a  cheap  form,  the  earliest  and  most 
famous  of  the  attempts  to  popularize  wholesome  literature. — 
Encyclop.  Brit.  The  founder  of  the  series  was  Archibald  Con- 
stable, the  famous  Edinburgh  publisher. 

4:  7.  Mr.  Morris  Birlcbeclc.  An  English  emigrant  to  the  terri- 
tory of  Illinois,  the  author  of  two  interesting  series  of  letters — 
Notes  on  a  Journey  in  America  from  the  Coast  of  Virginia  to  the 
Territo^'y  of  Illinois  (1818),  and  Letters  from  Illinois  (1818). 
Though  Carlyle's  tone  is  sarcastic,  Birkbeck's  impression  of 
American  kindness,  courtesy,  and  simple  good  breeding  is  not, 
on  the  whole,  exaggerated.  The  besetting  vice  of  Americans,  it 
is  interesting  to  notice,  he  thought  to  be  indolence. 

5  17.  ^'' Nine  Days.''''  The  proverbial  expression  ''nine  days' 
wonder  "  has  been  in  common  use  since  the  time  of  Chaucer. 

5  27.  He  had  his  'oery  materials  to  discover.  Burns's  poetry 
dealt  with  what  was  then  new  material — the  life  and  emotions 
of  the  common  people,  expressed  in  their  native  dialect. 

6  19.  Fergus[s'\on  or  Ramsay.  Robert  Fergusson  (1751-1774), 
and  Allan  Ramsay  (1686-1758),  both  precursors  of  Burns  in  his 
peculiar  vein.  See  the  selections  in  Ward's  English  Poets^  vol. 
iii.,  and  Minto's  The  Historical  Relationships  of  Bu?mSj  in  his  Lit- 


78  EXPLANATORY  NOTES 

erature  of  the  Oeorgian  Era,     Over  the  neglected  grave  of  Fer- 
gusson,  Burns  raised  a  stone,  bearing  the  lines  : 

*'  No  sculptured  marble  here,  nor  pompous  lay. 
No  storied  urn  or  animated  bust  ; 
This  simple  stone  directs  pale  Scotia's  way 
To  pour  her  sorrows  o'er  her  poet's  dust." 

7  21.  Sir  Hudson  Lowe.  A  British  general,  governor  of  the 
island  of  St.  Helena  during  Napoleon's  captivity,  1815-1821. 
''''Amid  the  melancholy  main y  Quoted  from  Thompson's  Caslle 
of  Lndolence^  xxx. 

7  35.  ^'^  Eter7ial  Melodies. ^^  Evidently,  from  other  passages  in 
Carlyle,  a  quotation  from  the  German. 

8  21.  The  ^'' Daisy. ^^  Referring  to  one  of  Burns's  most  famous 
poems.  Ruined  nest,  etc.  (8  22).  Referring  to  the  characteristic 
versos  To  a  Mouse.     Both  poems  are  printed  below. 

TO   A  MOUNTAIN  DAISY. 

(On  turning  one  down  with  the  plough  in  Aprils  1786.) 
Wee,  modest,  crimson-tipped  flow'r, 
Thou's  met  me  in  an  evil  hour  ; 
For  I  maun  ^  crush  amang  the  stoure  * 

Thy  slender  stem  : 
To  spare  thee  now  is  past  my  pow'r, 

Thou  bonnie  gem. 

Alas  !  it's  no  thy  neebor  sweet. 
The  bonnie  lark,  companion  meet, 
Bending  thee  'mang  the  dewy  weet,^ 

Wi'  speckl'd  breast, 
When  upward-springing,  blythe,  to  greet 

The  purpling  east. 

Cauld  blew  the  bitter-biting  North 
Upon  thy  early,  humble  birth  ; 
Yet  cheerfully  thou  glinted  forth 

Amid  the  storm, 
Scarce  rear'd  above  the  parent-earth 

Thy  tender  form. 

» Must.  =*  Dust.  Wet. 


EXPLANATORY  NOTES  79 

The  flaunting  flow'rs  our  gardens  yield, 

High  shelt'ring  woods  and  wa's  ^  maun  shield  ; 

But  thou,  beneath  the  random  bield  ^ 

O'  clod  or  stane. 
Adorns  the  histie  ^  stibble-field, 

Unseen,  alane. 

There,  in  thy  scanty  mantle  clad, 
Thy  snawie  bosom  sunward  spread, 
Thou  lifts  thy  unassuming  head 

In  humble  guise  ; 
But  now  the  share  up- tears  thy  bed. 

And  low  thou  lies  I 

Such  is  the  fate  of  artless  maid, 
Sweet  flow'ret  of  the  rural  shade  ! 
By  love's  simplicity  betray'd, 

And  guileless  trust. 
Till  she,  like  thee,  all  soil'd,  is  laid 

Low  i'  the  dust. 

Such  is  the  fate  of  simple  bard. 

On  life's  rough  ocean  luckless  starr'd  I 

Unskilful  he  to  note  the  card 

Of  prudent  lore, 
Till  billows  rage,  and  gales  blow  hard, 

And  whelm  him  o'er  ! 

Such  fate  to  suffering  worth  is  giv'n, 
Who  long  with  wants  and  woes  has  striv'n, 
By  human  pride  or  cunning  driv'n 

To  mis'ry's  brink, 
Till  wrench'd  of  ev'ry  stay  but  Heav'n, 

He,  ruin'd,  sink  ! 

Ev*n  thou  who  mourn'st  the  Daisy's  fate, 
That  fate  is  thine — no  distant  date  ; 
Stern  Ruin's  plough-share  drives,  elate. 

Full  on  thy  bloom, 
Till  crush'd  beneath  the  furrow's  weight 

Shall  be  thy  doom  I 

'Walls.  » Shelter.  ^Dry. 


80  EXPLANATORY  NOTES 

TO   A   MOUSE. 
{On  turning  her  up  in  her  Nest,  with  the  Plough,  November,  1785.) 

Wee,  sleekit,  ^  cow'rin',  tim'rous  beastie, 
0,  what  a  panic's  in  thy  breastie  ! 
Thou  need  na  start  awa  sae  hasty, 

Wi'  bick'ring  brattle  !  ^ 
I  wad  be  hiith  to  rin  an'  chase  thee, 

Wi'  murd'ring  pattle.' 

I'm  truly  sorry  man's  dominion 
Has  broken  Nature's  social  union. 
An'  justifies  that  ill  opinion 

Which  maks  thee  startle 
At  me,  thy  poor  earth-born  companion. 

An'  fellow-mortal. 

I  doubt  na,  whyles,'*  but  thou  may  thieve  : 
What  then  ?  poor  beastie,  thou  maun  live  I 
A  daimen  icker  ^  in  a  thrave,® 

'S  a  sma'  request  : 
I'll  get  a  blessing  wi'  the  lave/ 

And  never  miss  't. 

Thy  wee  bit  housie,  too,  in  ruin  ! 
Its  silly  wa's  the  win's  are  strewin'  ! 
An'  naething,  now,  to  big  *  a  new  ane, 

0'  foggage  ^  green  ! 
An'  bleak  December's  win's  ensuin', 

Baith  snell  ^°  and  keen  ? 

Thou  saw  the  fields  laid  bare  an'  waste, 
And  weary  winter  comin'  fast, 
An'  cozie  here,  beneath  the  blast. 

Thou  thought  to  dwell. 
Till,  crash  !  the  cruel  coulter  past 

Out  thro'  thy  cell. 

*  Sleek.  2  ^itjj  racing  hurry. 

^  Plough-staff.  *  Once  in  a  while. 

^  Daimen,  now  and  then  ;  icker,  ear  of  corn. 

^  Twenty-four  sheaves  of  grain. 

'  The  rest.  « Build.  « Aftermath.  »« Bitter. 


EXPLANATORY  NOTES  81 

That  wee  bit  heap  o'  leaves  an'  stibble 
Has  cost  thee  monie  a  weary  nibble  ! 
Now  thou  's  turn'd  out,  for  a'  thy  trouble. 

But  ^  house  or  hald,^ 
To  thole  ^  the  winter's  sleety  dribble, 

An'  cranreuch  *  cauld  ! 

But,  Mousie,  thou  art  no  thy  lane,^ 
In  proving  foresight  may  be  vain  : 
The  best  laid  schemes  o'  mice  an'  men 

Gang  aft  a-gley," 
An  lea'e  us  nought  but  grief  and  pain 

For  promis'd  joy. 

Still  thou  art  blest,  compar'd  wi'  me  I 
The  present  only  toucheth  thee  : 
But,  och  !  I  backward  cast  my  e'e, 

On  prospects  drear  I 
An'  forward,  tho'  I  canna  see, 

I  guess  an'  fear. 

8  24.  '-'- Ilocur  mage''''  of  Winter,  Apparently  quoted  (from 
memory)  from  an  expression  used  in  a  letter  of  Burns's  to  Miss 
Kennedy  (1785). 

8  28.  He  loves  to  walk  in  the  sounding  woods,  etc.  This  expres- 
sion and  the  following  quotation  is  evidently  adapted  from  a 
passage  in  an  extract  from  one  of  Burns's  letters,  quoted  by 
Lockhart. 

8  29.  Him  that  walheth  on  the  wings  of  the  wind.     Psalm  civ.  3. 

8  35.  Nut-hroion.  A  favorite  epithet  of  English  poets  for  a 
brunette,  from  the  days  of  the  old  ballads  down.  The  most 
famous  use  is  in  a  charming  folk-song  of  the  fifteenth  century, 
the  basis  of  a  longer  poem  by  Prior  {Henry  and  Emma),  in  which 
the  nut-brown  maid  is  the  very  ideal  of  constant  and  unselfish 
affection. 

9  3.  Arcadian.  Arcadia,  in  the  heart  of  the  Peloponnesus, 
almost  surrounded  by  mountains,  was  proverbial  for  its  rural 
simplicity.     The  poets  have  pictured,  in  later  times,  ''an  ideal 

^  Without.  ^  Endure.  *  Alone. 

^  Hold,  home.  "*  Hoar  frost.  •  Off  the  right  line,  askew. 


82  EXPLANATORY  NOTES 

Arcadia — the  home  of  piping  shepherds  and  coy  shepherdesses, 
where  rustic  simplicity  and  plenty  satisfied  the  ambition  of  untu- 
tored hearts,  and  where  ambition  and  its  crimes  were  unknown." 
For  a  sketch  of  the  rise  in  modern  literature  of  this  ideal 
Arcadia,  see  Mahaffy's  Rambles  and  Studies  in  Greece. 

11  26.  **  Si  vis  me  flere,  dolendum  est  primum  ipsi  tibi  " — If 
you  wish  me  to  weep,  you  must  first  mourn  yourself.  Ars 
Poetica,  102. 

12  27.   Strong  waters.     An  old  phrase  for  distilled  liquors. 

12  29.  Harolds.  Harold  was  the  romantic  hero  of  Byron's 
Childe  Harold.  Giaours.  ^'  Giaour  "  (pronounced  Jowr,  to  rhyme 
with  * 'bower")  is  an  Italianized  form  of  the  Turkish  word  mean- 
ing "infidel,"  i.e.^  any  person  not  a  Mohammedan  by  faith,  and 
particularly  a  European  or  Christian.  The  reference  is  to  another 
poem  by  Byron  entitled  Giaour^  tlie  hero  of  which  was  known 
by  the  same  name. 

14  5.  ShaJcspeare  .  .  .  the  sheerest  lombast.  For  an  ex- 
ample of  this,  see  Macbeth^  Act  I.,  Scene  ii.,  lines  56  ff.,  and  the 
comment  on  them  in  Professor  Manly's  edition  in  this  series. 

14  25.  Mrs.  Dunlojy.  "His  little  volume  [tlie  first  edition  of 
his  poems,  1786]  happened  to  attract  the  notice  of  Mrs.  Dunlop 
of  Dunlop,  a  lady  of  high  birth  and  ample  fortune,  enthusiastic- 
ally attached  to  her  country,  and  interested  in  whatever  appeared 
to  concern  the  honor  of  Scotland.  This  excellent  woman,  while 
slowly  recovering  from  the  languor  of  an  illness,  laid  her  hands 
accidentally  on  the  new  production  of  the  provincial  press,  and 
opened  the  volume  at  the  Cotter'' s  Saturday  Night.''"'  She  read  it 
over  and  ov^er  with  the  greatest  pleasure  and  surprise,  and 
"instantly  sent  an  express  to  Mossgiel,  distant  sixteen  miles 
from  her  residence,  with  a  very  kind  letter  to  Burns."  Burns 
"acknowledged  the  favor  conferred  upon  him  in  an  interesting 
letter,  still  extant;  and,  shortly  afterwards,  commenced  a  personal 
acquaintance  with  one  that  never  afterward  ceased  to  befriend  him 
to  the  utmost  of  her  power.  His  letters  to  Mrs.  Dunlop  form  a 
very  large  proportion  of  all  his  subsequent  correspondence  ;  and, 
addressed,  as  they  were,  to  a  person  whose  sex,  age,  rank,  and 
benevolence  inspired  at  once  profound  respect  and  a  graceful 
confidence,  will  ever  remain  the  most  pleasing  of  all  the  materials 
of  our  poet's  biography." — Lockhart. 

The  following  was  liis  last  letter  to  Mrs.  Dunlop,  written  only 
a  few  days  before  his  death  :        ^ 


EXPLANATORY  NOTES  83 

Brow,  Saturday,  12th  July,  1796. 
Madam  :  I  liavo  written  you  so  often,  without  receiving  any 
answer,  tliat  I  would  not  trouble  you  again,  but  for  the  circum- 
stances in  which  I  am.  An  illness  which  has  long  hung  about 
me,  in  all  probability  will  speedily  send  mc  beyond  that  lourne 
whence  no  tra.mller  returns.  Your  fiiendship,  with  which  for 
many  years  you  honored  me,  was  a  friendship  dearest  to  my 
soul.  Your  conversation,  and  especially  your  conespondence, 
were  at  once  highly  entertaining  and  instructive.  With  what 
pleasure  did  I  use  to  break  up  the  seal !  The  remembrance  yet 
adds  one  pulse  more  to  my  poor  palpitating  heart.     Farewell  !  I  ! 

R.   B. 

15  4.  Hose-coloured  novels  and  iron-mailed  e2ncs.  The  novels  to 
which  Carlyle  refers  are  probably  of  the  sort  represented  by  some 
of  Maria  Edgeworth's,  which  have  their  well-known  descend- 
ants in  the  Sunday-school  literature  of  our  day  ;  the  epics  are 
of  the  extravagant  and  violent  kind  that  Southey  wrote. 

15  6.  Somewhere  nearer  to  the  Moon.  And  therefore  crazy, 
moonstruck,  the  allusion  seems  to  be. 

15  7.  Virgins  of  the  Sun,  etc.  Alluding  to  poems  like  Moore's 
Lalla  Iloolch,  and  to  Scott's  and  Cooper's  novels. 

16  17.  Vates.  Latin,  meaning  poet  ;  or  literally,  prophet, 
foreteller. 

16  20.  Delpld,  A  town  in  Greece,  near  the  Corinthian  Gulf, 
and  at  the  foot  of  Mt.  Parnassus,  the  fabled  home  of  the  Muses. 
It  was  the  seat  of  the  famous  oracle  of  Apollo. 

16  24.  Minerva  Press,  A  printing  house  in  London,  noted  in 
the  eighteenth  century  for  the  publication  of  trashy,  sentimental 
novels  for  the  circulating  libraries. 

16  31.  ^^  Elder  dramatists y  The  Elizabethan  dramatists,  for 
instance,  whose  poetic  diction  is  celebrated. 

17  4.  Dan  to  Beersheba.  Respectively  the  most  northern  and 
the  most  southern  cities  of  Palestine.  Hence  the  meaning  of  the 
phrase,  from  one  end  of  the  land  to  the  other. 

17  13.  Borgia.  A  powerful  Italian  family  of  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury, celebrated  for  its  ability  and  for  its  monstrous  crimes.  The 
most  noted  Borgia,  to  whom  Carlyle  probably  alludes,  was  Caesar, 
handsome,  brave,  and  accomplished,  but  stained  with  almost  in- 
conceivable perfidy  and  crime.  Luther.  The  leader  of  the 
German  Reformation.     lie  was  a  man  of  extremely  passionate 


84  EXPLANATORY   NOTES 

nature,  and  made  no  concealment  of  his  righteous  indignation  at 
tlie  excesses  of  the  Roman  Church. 

17  16.  Mossgiel  and  Tarbolton.     See  Introduction,  iv. 

17  17.  Crochford's.  A  famous  and  fashionable  gambling-house 
in  London. 

17  18.  Tuileries.  A  royal  residence  adjoining  the  Louvre  in 
Paris.     It  was  burned  by  the  Commune  in  1871. 

18  1.  The  Wounded  Hare^  etc.  Referring  to  Burns's  sympa- 
thetic *' verses  on  seeing  a  wounded  hare  limp  by  me,  which  a 
fellow  had  just  shot  at." 

18  4.  Halloween,  etc.  Referring  to  one  of  Burns's  most  cele- 
brated and  cliaracteristic  poems,  Halloween,  which  describes 
vividly  and  m  racy  dialect  the  merry  consulting  of  the  fates  by 
country  lads  and  lassies  on  that  night. 

18  5.  Druids.  The  priests  or  ministers  of  religion  among  the 
ancient  Celts  of  Gaul,  Britain,  and  Ireland.  Theocritus.  A 
famous  Grreek  idyllic  poet  of  the  third  century  B.  C.  No  Theoc- 
ritus here  means  "  no  poet  of  country  life." 

18  7.  Holy  Fair  was  the  name  given  in  the  west  of  Scotland 
to  a  summer  gathering  of  the  country  people  for  the  purpose  of 
receiving  the  sacrament.  It  was  the  subject  of  one  of  Burns's 
most  telling  satirical  poems.  It  was  at  the  invitation  of  Fwi, 
and  in  company  with  Superstition  and  Hypocrisy,  that  the  poet 
feigns  to  have  journeyed  to  the  Fair.  Council  of  Trent.  A 
famous  council  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  held  at  Trent,  in 
the  Tyrol,  beginning  in  1545.  It  condemned  the  principal  doc- 
trines of  the  Reformation.  lioman  Jubilee.  A  festal  year  in  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church,  occurring  every  twenty-five  or  fifty 
years,  in  which  remission  of  the  penal  consequences  of  sin  is 
granted  to  those  who  repent  and  perform  a  pilgrimage  to  Rome, 

^  or  certain  other  acts. 

19  13.  lietzsch.  Moritz  Retzsch.  A  German  etcher  and 
painter  (1779-1857),  best  known  for  his  illustrations  of  Goethe 
and  Schiller. 

19  20-30.  Fell,  keen  ;  doure,  stern  ;  lift,  sky;  a^,  one  ;  hums, 
etc.,  streams  with  snowy  wreaths  choked  up  ;  hocked,  vomited. 

20  G.  Auld  Brig.  See  Burns's  poem,  The  Brigs  of  Ayr,  an 
imaginary  dialogue  between  the  old  and  the  new  budges  across 
the  Ayr,  in  the  town  of  Ayr. 


EXPLANATORY  NOTES  85 

20  7-20.  Thowes,  thaws  ;  snaw-hroOj  literally  snow-broth,  i.e., 
melted  snow  ;  speat,  flood  ;  GleiibucJc,  the  source  of  the  river  ; 
liattonkey,  a  small  landmg  place  near  the  mouth  of  the  river  ; 
Deil  nor  ye  never  rise  !  In  the  devil's  name,  may  you  never  rise. 
The  Old  Bridge,  which  is  supposed  to  be  speaking,  despises  the 
new-fangled  architecture  of  its  more  modern  neighbor.  GiirnUe 
jaups,  muddy  waves  or  splashes. 

20  21.  Poussin.  Nicolas  Poussin,  a  noted  French  historical  and 
landscape  painter  (1594-1665). 

20  25,26.  ''Farmer's''  .  .  ,  '' Avid  Mare."  Referring  to 
Burns's  touching  verses,  The  Auld  Farmer's  New  Year  Morning 
Salutation  to  his  Auld  Mare  Maggie. 

20  27,  28.  Homer's  Smithy  of  the  Cyclops.  The  smithy  of  the 
Cyclops  was  the  spot,  Mt.  Etna  or  elsewhere,  at  which  these 
one-eyed  Titans  forged  Zeus's  thunderbolts;  but  Carlyle  perhaps 
refers  to  the  charming  story  of  Odysseus  and  Polyphemus,  the 
sheep-raising  and  man-eating  giant,  in  the  ninth  book  of  the 
Odyssey.  For  the  yoking  of  Priam's  chariot,  see  the  Uiad,  Book 
xxiv.,  in  Pope's  translation,  Maxwell  and  Chubb's  edition  of 
which  is  in  this  series. 

20  28.  ''  Burn-the-wind."  "Burnewin"  (Burn-the-wind)  is  a 
vivid  Scotch  expression  for  ''blacksmith."  In  a  poem  entitled 
Scotch  Drink,  Burns  lauds  the  virtues  of  all  Scotch  liquors,  and 
gives  a  vivid  picture  of  a  blacksmith,  his  brawny  customers,  and 
his  foaming  draught  of  ale  for  refreshment  in  the  intervals  of  labor: 

**  When  Vulcan  gies  his  bellows  breath, 
An'  ploughmen  gather  wi'  their  graith,* 
0  rare  !  to  see  thee  fizz  an'  f reath  ^ 

I'  th'  lugget  caup  !  ^ 
Then  Burnewin  comes  on  like  death 

At  ev'ry  chaup.'' 

"  Nae  mercy,  then,  for  airn  or  steel  ; 
The  brawny,  bainie,*  ploughman  chiel, 
Brings  hard  owre  hip,  wi'  sturdy  wheel, 
The  strong  forehammer, 
Till  block  an'  studdie  ®  ring  and  reel 
Wi'  dinsome  clamour." 
'  Tackle,  gear.  ^  Handled  cup.  *  Bony. 

'  Froth.  *  Chop,  stroke.  « Anvil. 


86  EXPLANATORY  NOTES 

20  35.  Fabulosus  Hydaspes.  Carlyle  calls  attention  to  the  paral- 
lelism between  Burns's  hmmted  Garpal  and  Horace's  somewhat 
similar  expression  {Odes^  I.,  xxii.,  7,  8)  with  regard  to  the 
Hydaspes,  the  river  between  the  Indus  and  the  Ganges,  wliich 
was  the  eastern  limit  of  Alexander's  conquests.  Fabulosus  means 
*' storied."     Compare  Milton's  II  Penseroso^  line  159. 

21  12,13.  Richardson,  Samuel  Richardson  (1689-1761), author 
of  Pamela^  Clarissa  Harlowe^  and  Sir  Charles  Grandison,  novels 
dealing  largely  with  domestic  life,  and  notable  for  their  minute- 
ness and  (to  us)  prosiness  of  treatment.  They  were,  however, 
exceedingly  popular  in  their  day,  and  have  remained  classics. 
Defoe.  Daniel  Defoe  (1661-1731),  author  of  Robinson  Crusoe, 
Journal  of  the  Plague  Year,  etc.,  the  first  great  English  novelist, 
famous  also  for  his  minute,  though  more  realistic,  method  of 
narrative. 

21  30.  Red-wat-shod.  ''  Ret-wet-shod,"  with  bloodstained 
feet. 

22  2.  Professor  Stewart,  Dugald  Stewart  (1753-1828),  a  cele- 
brated Scottish  philosopher,  long  professor  in  the  University  of 
Edinburgh.     See  45  3. 

22  12.  Keats.  John  Keats  (1795-1821),  a  really  great  English 
poet,  the  author  of  the  Eve  of  St.  Agnes,  Ode  on  a  Grecian  Urn, 
and  other  beautiful  lyrics,  which  the  student  should  read  again 
and  again.  Carlyle  and  others  have  judged  him  harshly,  holding 
his  exquisite  sensitiveness  to  beauty  for  mere  weakness. 

22  20.  The  Hell  of  Dante.  Hell  is  vividly  pictured  in  Dante's 
Inferno,  the  first  part  of  his  Divine  Comedy. 

22  26.  ''^  Novum  Organum.^''  The  chief  philosophic  work  of 
Francis  Bacon,  in  which  he  sets  forth  his  *'new  method" 
of  scientific  investigation.  Since  Carlyle  wrote,  much  labor 
has  been  expended  by  certain  writers  in  endeavoring  to  show 
just  the  reverse  of  Carlyle's  statement  ;  namely,  that  Bacon 
showed  an  understanding  that  could  and  did  indite  Shak- 
spere's  plays. 

23  14.  In  the  passage  above  quoted.  Evidently  in  a  part  of  the 
passage  which  Carlyle  omits. 

23  16.  The  doctrine  of  association.  The  psychological  reason 
for  the  very  familiar  phenomenon  of  which  Burns  shows  his  appre- 
ciation below  (paragraph  23). 


EXPLANATORY  NOTES  87 

23  20  ff.  The  extract  is  from  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Dun  lop,  dated 
"  New  year-day  Morning,  1789.'* 

25  3-13.  From  A  Winter  Nighty  the  first  two  stanzas  of  which 
were  quoted  on  page  19.  Ourie^  shivering  or  drooping  ;  brattle^ 
race  or  attack  ;  lairing,  wading,  sinking  ;  sprattle,  scramble  ; 
scaur,  cliff  ;  ilk,  every  ;  chittering^  shivering,  trembling. 

25  21-26.  The  closing  stanza  of  the  Addi'ess  to  the  Deil.  Nickie- 
hen.  Nickie  is,  of  course,  Old  Nick.  Ben  is  not  easily  explicable, 
but  evidently  implies  intimacy,  as  in  several  Scotch  phrases  {cf, 
'*  Jenny  brings  him  5^"  Cotiefs  Saturday  Night) ^  in  which  it  is 
equivalent  to  within^  i.  e.,  the  living-room  of  the  house.  Wad, 
would  ;  men\  mend  ;  aiblins,  perhaps  ;  dinna  ken,  do  not  know  ; 
stake,  chance  (? ) ;  wae,  sad,  sorrowful. 

25  27,  29.  Dr.  Slop.  Uncle  Toby.  Whimsical  characters  in 
Sterne's  Tristram  Shandy, 

25  32.  Indignation  makes  verses.  Facit  indignatio  'versus. — 
Juvenal. 

26  7.  Johnson.  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson  (1709-1784),  the  famous 
English  lexicographer,  essayist,  and  poet.  Boswell,  in  his  Life 
of  Johnson,  reports  him  as  saying,  ''Sir,  I  like  a  good  hater." 

26  22.  Furies.  In  Greek  mythology  the  Erinyes  or  Eumenides 
were  female  deities,  avengers  of  iniquity,  ^schylus,  the  great- 
est of  the  Greek  tragic  poets,  introduced  a  chorus  of  Furies  in 
the  Eumenides,  one  of  his  tragedies. 

26  23.  Darkness  visible.     Paradise  Lost,  i.,  62. 

26  26-31.  The  opening  of  Burns's  bitter  Ode,  Sacred  to  the 
Memory  of  Mrs.  Oswald.  It  will  perhaps  require  a  second  reading 
to  catch  the  sense.  Who  refers  to  the  object  of  mark:  mark  (her) 
who.  Noosing  is  tying  lightly,  or,  perhaps,  nursing.  The  lady 
addressed  was,  as  the  ode  goes  on  to  show,  avaricious  to  the  last 
degree. 

26  32.  ^' Scots  wha  hae  wf  Wallace  bled.''  The  first  line  of 
Burns's  Bannockburn  :  Robert  Bruce' s  Address  to  his  Army,  so  justly 
celebrated  a  song  that  the  student  should  not  omit  this  oppor- 
tunity to  become  familiar  with  it  : 

Scots,  wha  hae  wi*  Wallace  bled  ; 
Scots,  wham  Bruce  has  aften  led  ; 
Welcome  to  your  gory  bed, 
Or  to  vietorie. 


S8  EXPLANATORY  NOTES 

Now's  the  day,  and  now's  the  hour  ; 
See  the  front  o'  battle  lour  ; 
See  approach  proud  Edward's  pow'r — 
Chains  and  slaverie  I 

Wha  will  be  a  traitor-knave  ? 
Wha  can  fill  a  coward's  grave  ? 
Wha  sae  base  as  be  a  slave  ? 

Let  him  turn  and  flee  ! 

Wha  for  Scotland's  king  and  law 
Freedom's  sword  will  strongly  draw, 
Free-man  stand,  or  free-man  fa'  ? 
Let  him  follow  me  ! 

By  oppression's  woes  and  pains  1 
By  your  sons  in  servile  chains  ! 
We  will  drain  our  dearest  veins, 
But  they  shall  be  free  ! 

Lay  the  proud  usurpers  low  ! 
Tyrants  fall  in  every  foe  ! 
Liberty's  in  every  blow  ! 

Let  us  do,  or  die  ! 

26  34,  35.  This  ditliyramhic  was  composed  on  horseback.  Cf. 
Professor  Lovett's  edition  of  Marmion^  in  tliis  series,  Litroduc- 
tion,  p.  XX.,  for  a  similar  fact  in  regard  to  Scott's  composition 
of  Marmion. 

27  12.  ''-  Macpliersori's  Farewell^  James  Macpherson  was  a 
noted  Scotch  freebooter,  a  man  of  very  unusual  pliysical  strength, 
and  a  skilful  performer  on  tlie  violin.  He  was  finally  captured, 
tried,  and  condemned  to  death  in  the  year  1700.  While  in  prison 
awaiting  execution  lie  composed  a  song,  beginning  ; 

*'  I've  spent  my  time  in  rioting, 

Debauched  my  health  and  strength  ; 
I  squandered  fast  as  pillage  came, 
And  fell  to  shame  at  lencfth. 


EXPLANATORY  NOTES  89 

But  dantonly  and  wantonly, 

And  rantonly  I'll  gae  ; 
I'll  play  a  tune,  and  dance  it  roun', 

Beneath  the  gallows  tree." 

Under  the  gallows  he  played  the  tune  on  Ids  violin,  and  then 
offered  the  instrument  to  any  friend  who  would  come  forward 
and  accept  it  at  his  hands.  No  one  offering,  lie  angrily  broke 
the  violin  on  his  knee  and  threw  away  the  pieces.  Tiien  he  sub- 
mitted to  his  fate.  Burns's  verses  were  intended  to  be  an  im- 
provement on  Macpherson's,  and  to  be  sung  to  the  same  air. 
They  begin  : 

"  Farewell,  ye  dungeons  dark  and  strong, 
The  wretch's  destinie  ! 
Macpherson's  time  will  not  be  long, 
On  yonder  gallows-tree. 


'*  Sae  rantingly,  sae  wantonly ^ 
Sae  dauntingly  gaed  he  ; 
He  play'd  a  spring  and  danced  it  round. 
Below  the  gallows-tree. ' ' 

27  15.  Gacus.  The  plundering  monster  of  the  Aventine  whom 
Hercules  slew.     Siurt,  struggle. 

27  25.  Thebes,  and  in  Pelops"*  Ime.  Compare  Milton's  lines— 
II  Penseroso,  97-100 : 

"  Sometime  let  gorgeous  Tragedy 
In  sceptred  pall  come  sweeping  by, 
Presenting  Thebes,  or  Pelops'  line. 
Or  the  tale  of  Troy  divine." 

The  allusion  is  to  the  Greek  tragedies,  the  three  most  popular 
subjects  of  which  were  (Edipus,  King  of  Thebes,  Pelops  and 
their  respective  houses,  and  the  various  heroes  of  the  Trojan  war. 

27  26.  Material  Fate.  The  dominant  idea  in  Greek  traged}^  is 
that  of  an  overpowering  fate,  against  which  man  struggled,  only 
to  be  overwhelmed  at  last. 

28  12.  ''Address  to  the  Mouse.'"  See  8  22-24,  and  note.  The 
'' Farmer^ s  Mare.''"'     See  20  20,  and  note. 


90  EXPLANATORY  NOTES 

28  13.  ''^  Elegy  on  2^oor  Mailie.''^  A  liumorous  lament  on  the 
death  of  a  pet  sheep  of  which  Burns  was  very  fond,  beginning  : 

"  Lament  in  rhyme,  lament  in  prose, 
Wi'  saut  tears  trickling  down  your  nose  ; 
Our  Bardie's  ^  fate  is  at  a  close, 
Past  a'  remead  ; 
The  last  sad  cap-stane  of  his  woes  ; 
Poor  Mailie's  dead  I 

"  It's  no  the  loss  o'  warl's  gear, 
That  could  sae  bitter  draw  the  tear, 
Or  mak  our  Bardie,  dowie,^  wear 

The  mourning  weed  : 
He's  lost  a  friend  and  neibor  dear, 
In  Mailie  dead. 

*'  Thro'  a'  the  toun  she  trotted  by  him  ; 
A  lang  half-mile  she  could  descry  him  ; 
Wi'  kindly  bleat,  when  she  did  spy  him, 

She  ran  wi'  speed  : 
A  friend  mair  faithfu'  ne'er  cam  nigh  him 

Than  Mailie  dead." 

28  15.  Sterne.  Laurence  Sterne.  The  celebrated  English 
novelist  and  humorist  (1713-1768),  author  of  Tristram  Shandy, 
and  The  Sentimental  Journey,  for  whose  whimsical  and  kindly 
wit  Carlyle  had  an  especial  admiration.     See  note  on  25  27. 

28  26.  Tarn  o''  Shanter.  A  spirited,  humorous  narrative, 
scarcely  appreciated  by  Carlyle,  founded  on  a  popular  tradition  of 
a  drunken  traveller  who  by  chance  sees  a  midnight  carouse  of 
witclies  and  is  pursued  by  them. 

29  6.  Tieck.  Ludwig  Tieck  (1773-1853),  a  German  poet  and 
critic,  spoken  of  elsewhere  by  Carlyle  as  "a  true  poet,  a  poet  born 
as  well  as  made."  Musam.  Johann  Karl  August  Musaus  (1735- 
1787).  His  chief  w^ork  was  Folk- Tales  of  the  Germans.  Carlyle 
says:  "He  attempts  not  to  deal  with  the  deeper  feelings  of  the 
heart.     .     .     .     Musaus  is,  in  fact,  no  poet." 

29  28.   The  Jolly  Beggars.      A  rollicking  cantata,  dealing  with 

^  Bardie,  bard.  ^  Worn  with  grief. 


EXPLANATORY  NOTES  91 

the  carouse  of  certain  ''Jolly  Beggars"  on  a  winter  night. 
Several  of  t\\e  dramatis personm  ^vq  inGxiiionedi  below:  a^^raucle 
carlin  "  (sturdy  crone),  who  sang  the  praises  of  Jier  jail-bird  hus- 
band; a  ''^icee  Apollo^^''  a  ''pigmy  scraper  wi'  his  fiddle;"  a  "  Son 
of  Mars^''^  a  rascally  old  soldier;  a  caird  (tinker),  and  Poosie-- 
Nansie  (Nancy),  the  mistress  of  tlie  inn. 

30  12.    Callets.     Loose  women. 

30  19.  Teniers.  A  celebrated  Flemish  painter  of  the  sevens 
teentli  century,  who  excelled  in  realistic  representations  of  low 
life. 

30  24.  The  '''  Beggars'  Opera^  An  exceedingly  popular  piece 
of  the  early  eighteenth  century,  written  by  John  Gay,  in  parody 
of  the  Italian  opera,  which  was  just  then  coming  into  favor. 
The  songs' were  set  to  popular  tunes.  Tlie  cliaracters  were  pick- 
pockets, highwaymen,  and  loose  characters  ;  and  the  wliole  was  a 
satire  on  the  political  corruption  of  the  time.  The  '•'Beggars'' 
Bitshj'*''  a  seventeenth  century  comedy,  by  Fletclier  and  others,  of 
tlie  contents  of  which  the  name  is  significant. 

31  10.  '''- Persons  of  quality y  Gentlemen  or  ladies,  not  com- 
mon people. 

31  12.  Ossorius,  Jeronymo  Osorio  (1506-1580),  called  "the 
Cicero  of  Portugal,"  because  of  the  florid  excellence  of  his  Latin 
style.  This  judgment  on  the  character  of  his  writing  is  said  to 
be  adapted  from  Bacon. 

31  19.  Limlo.  Usually  the  border-land  of  Hell,  but  here 
simply  border-land. 

31  28.  In  the  medium  of  Harmony.  Through  the  means  of 
harmony.     The  thought  is  not  precise. 

32  15-19.  Willie  hreuPd  a  Peck  o''  Maut,''"'  etc.  Maut  is,  of 
course,  malt.  Of  tlie  songs  here  referred  to,  Scots  wha  hae  wi'* 
Wallace  hied  has  already  been  quoted  (page  87),  and  Auld  Lang- 
syne  is  too  familiar  to  need  quotation.  Vlillie  lyreufd  a  Peck  <?' 
Maut  is  a  favorite  drinking  song  : 

"  0  Willie  brew'd  a  peck  o'  maut, 
And  Rob  and  Allan  cam  to  see ; 
Three  blyther  hearts  that  lee  lang  ^  night 
You  wad  na  find  in  Christendie."^ 

'  Livelong.  "^  Christendom. 


92  EXPLA  NA  TOR  Y  NOTES 

To  Mary  in  Heaven  was  written  in  memory  of  liis  betrothed, 
Mary  Campbell,  '' Higliland  Mary,"  who  was  seized  with  a 
malignant  fever  at  Greenock,  where  she  was  waiting  to  join  him 
and  sail  for  the  West  Indies,  and  died  before  he  could  even  hear 
of  her  illness.  The  beautiful  opening  lines,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  will 
lead  the  student  to  make  himself  familiar  with  the  entire  poem  : 

**  Thou  ling'ring  star,  with  less'ning  ray, 
That  lov'st  to  greet  the  early  morn, 
Agam  thou  usher'st  in  the  day 
My  Mary  from  my  soul  was  torn." 

Duncan  Oray  is  a  rollicking  ballad,  a  good  idea  of  the  charac- 
ter of  which  may  be  obtained  from  the  first  stanza.  The  whole 
poem,  however,  is  worth  the  student's  looking  up  : 

"  Duncan  Gray  came  here  to  woo, 

Ha,  ha,  the  wooing  o't, 
On  biythe  Yule  night  when  we  were  fou. 

Ha,  ha,  the  wooing  o't. 
Maggie  eoost  ^  her  head  fu'  high, 
Look'd  asklenf^  and  unco^  skeigh,* 
Gart  ^  poor  Duncan  stand  abeigh ; " 

Ha,  ha,  the  wooing  o't." 

32  25.  Our  Fletcher's  aphorism,  Andrew  Fletcher  of  Saltoun 
(1653-1716),  a  Scotch  politician  and  political  writer. 

33  17.  Our  Grays  and  Glovers.  Richard  Glover  (1712-1785) 
is  perhaps  now  best  known  as  the  author  of  a  spirited  and  once 
popular  ballad.  Hosier's  Oliost  (see  Mr.  Miller's  edition  of 
Southey's  Life  of  Nelson^  in  this  series,  page  26,  and  Pro- 
fessor Cook's  edition  of  Burke's  On  Conciliation  with  America, 
page  105).  Gray  is,  of  course,  Thomas  Gray,  the  author  of  the 
Elegy  in  a  Country  Churchyard. 

33  22.  Goldsmith.  Oliver  Goldsmith's  Deserted  Village  and 
Traveller  mark  the  beginning  of  the  reaction  from  the  pedantic 
and  affected  style  of  Pope  and  his  followers. 

^Cast.  -» Proud. 

^  Aslant.  "  Made. 

^  Strangely.  ®  At  a  shy  distance. 


EXPLANATORY  NOTES  93 

33  23,  24.  ^'  Ramller.''  A  periodical  on  the  plan  of  the  SjyeC' 
tatoT^  publislied  by  Dr.  Johnson  in  1750-1752.  Rasselas,  Prince 
of  Abyssinia,  is  a  romance,  the  scene  of  which  is  nominally  laid 
in  Abyssinia.  The  tone  of  the  story,  however,  is  distinctively 
English. 

33  29.  Geneva.  Switzerland  has  naturally  been  much  under 
the  influence  of  Frencli,  German,  and  Italian  culture,  and  has 
produced  little  in  literature  that  is  characteristic  and  original. 

33  32,33.  ''Spectators.^''  See  the  Introduction  to  LowelPs  edi- 
tion of  the  Sir  Roger  de  Goverley  Papers,  in  this  series.  Good 
John  Boston,  apparently  Thomas  Boston. 

33  35 — 34  2.  Schisms  in  our  National  Church.  Dissensions  in 
the  Scottish  Church  during  the  eighteenth  century,  arising  from 
differences  in  theology  or  from  disputes  as  to  whether  the  pastor 
of  a  church  should  be  elected  by  civil  or  ecclesiastical  authority. 
Fiercer  schisms  in  our  Body  Politic,  Between  the  Jacobites,  the 
partisans  of  the  Stuarts  (from  Jacobus,  Latin  for  James,  i.  e., 
James  II.,  the  deposed  king),  and  the  partisans  of  the  Orange, 
and  later  the  Hanoverian,  dynasty. 

34  5-23.  Karnes.  Juoxdi  K^mQS,  2i.\xthoYoii\\Q  Elements  of  Criti- 
cism, a  learned  work  on  aesthetics.  Hume  (David),  the  Tory  his- 
torian of  England,  and  a  metaphysician  of  repute.  Robertson 
(William),  the  author  of  the  brilliant  History  of  the  Emperor 
Charles  V.,  and  a  History  of  Scotland.  Smith  (Adam),  the  cele- 
brated founder  of  modern  political  economy,  the  autlior  of  the 
Wealth  of  Nations.  Racine,  the  great  French  tragic  poet.  Vol- 
taire, the  great  French  critic,  satirist,  poet,  and  sceptic.  Batteux, 
a  less  popular  French  writer  on  sesthetics,  which  was  at  that  time 
a  favorite  subject  of  study  in  Scotland.  Boileau,  a  famous  French 
poet  and  critic,  occupying  mucli  the  same  position  that  Pope 
held  in  England.  Montesquieu,  a  noted  French  philosophical  writer, 
who  influenced  greatly  the  thought  of  Europe  in  all  branches 
of  political  science.  Mably,  another  important  French  publicist. 
Qu£snay,  a  French  political  economist.  La  Fleche^  on  the  Loiie, 
where  Hume  spent  some  years  while  engaged  in  philosophical 
writing. 

35  18.  Propaganda  Missionaries.  Missionaries  under  the  super- 
vision of  the  Roman  Catliolic  Propaganda,  or  organization  for  the 
propagation  of  tlie  faith. 


94  EXPLANATORY  NOTES 

36  3.  IIaj)j)y -valley.  A  reminiscence  of  liasselas,  in  wliicli  the 
prince  leaves  liis  liappy  valley  in  Abyssinia  out  of  discontent  and 
curiosity,  only  to  find  the  great  world  about  more  full  of  cares 
and  perplexities  than  he  had  imagined. 

30  8.  Mind.  Recollect.  The  verses  are  from  his  epistle  To 
the  Guidwife  of  Waudiope  House. 

36  14-16.  Thistle.  The  Scottish  emblem.  Bear.  Barley. 
Weeding-cliijs.    In  the  best  texts,  "  weeding-heuk,"  w^eeding-hook. 

39  18.    The  crossing  of  air  ooh.    Caesar's  crossing  of  the  Rubicon. 

39  35.  A  '''•  priest-UTce father.'^''    Seethe  Gotter^s  Saturday  Night. 

40  19,  20.  In  glory  and  in  joy ^  etc.  From  Wordsworth's  poem 
entitled  The  Leech  Gatherer. 

41  26.  Sha?y  adamant  of  Fate,  etc.  The  loadstone  or  magnetic 
mountain  of  the  Arabian  stories. 

42  30,  31.  Hungry  Buin  has  him  in  the  tcind.  That  is,  Ruin, 
like  a  wolf,  had  him  to  windward,  and  could  therefore  follow  his 
scent  unerringly.  In  a  long  biograpliical  letter  (Aug.  2,  1787) 
to  Dr.  Moore,  Burns  quotes  the  same  line,  the  source  of  which  is 
not  known  to  the  present  editor.  The  time  to  which  Carlyle 
refers  was  that  at  which  Burn^,  threatened  with  arrest  on  a  charge 
that  required  him  to  give  bonds  for  what  was  to  him  a  consider- 
able amount  of  money,  was  about  to  sail  for  the  West  Indies. 

42  33,  34.  "  The  gloomy  night  is  gathering  fast. ''"'  The  first  line 
of  his  farewell  to  Scotland,  written  under  the  circumstances  just 
mentioned,  The  Bonnie  Banhs  of  Ayr ^  the  last  four  lines  of  which 
Carlyle  goes  on  to  quote. 

43  18.  Bienzi.  See  Bulwer  Lyt ton's  novel  and  Wagner's  opera. 
Rienzi  was  a  fourteenth  century  Italian  patriot,  who  gained  con- 
trol of  Rome,  reviving  the  old  title  of  Tribune  of  the  People,  but 
who  lost  himself  and  his  cause  by  rash  and  arbitrary  acts  and 
mad  excesses. 

44  21,  22.  Mr.  Walker^ s  personal  intervieios  with  Burns.  See 
2  33,  and  Introduction,  iv. 

44  26,  27.  Virgilium  vidi  tantum.  *'I  have  at  least  seen  Vir- 
gil."    Ovid,  Tristia,  iv.,  10,  51. 

45  1.  Professor  Ferguson's.  Adam  Ferguson  (1723-1816),  pro- 
fessor of  philosophy  at  Edinburgh. 

45  2,  3.  Mr.  Dugald  Steicart.     See  22  2. 

45  6.   Bunburifs.     '^ac  Dictionary  of  National  Biography. 


EXPLANATORY  NOTES  95 

45  19.  Langhoriie's.     John  Langliorne  (1735-1779). 

45  27.  28.  Mr.  NasmyWs  picture.     See  frontispiece. 

45  34.  Douce  gudeman.     Sober  good  man. 

40  23.  In  malam  partem.     In  bad  part,  maliciously. 

47  32.    Oood  Old  Blacldock.     See  Introduction,  iv. 

48  23.  Excise  and  Farm  Scheme.     See  Introduction,  iv. 

50  3.  MoRcenaaes.  Would-be  patrons,  like  Maecenas,  the  Roman 
statesman,  who,  tlirough  his  friendship  with  Horace  and  Virgil, 
has  gone  down  to  posterity  as  the  type  of  the  wealthy,  apprecia- 
tive, and  liberal  patron. 

51  10  ff.  Meteors  of  French  Politics.  The  Introduction,  iv., 
gives  the  necessary  explanation  of  the  allusions  on  this  page. 

51  27.   They  that  are  not  without  sin.     To  what  is  the  allusion  ? 

52  20.  Lady  Orizzel  Baillie^s.  See  Dictionary  of  National 
Biography. 

52  24.  Dowie,  sad  ;  hing,  heap. 

53  34.  Swift's  Epitaph.     Written  by  Swift  himself. 

55  26.    ^^ Twice  cursed.''^     To  what  is  the  allusion  ? 

56  32-34.  ShaJcspeare  made  a  fortune  and  lived  a  prosperous 
life,  but  his  greatness  was  not  generally  recognized  during  his 
lifetime.  Butler.  See  note  on  1  2.  Cervantes,  the  author  of 
Don  Quixote,  was  for  years  allowed  to  remain  a  slave  in  Algiers, 
and  was  several  times  imprisoned  for  debt. 

56  35.   Gather  grapes  of  thorns.     To  what  is  the  allusion  ? 

57  1.  A  fence  and  haws.  A  hedge-fence  and  thorn  (hawthorne) 
blossoms. 

57  6.  Borough.  A  district  appointing  a  member  of  Parliament. 
57  27.   The  solemn  mandate.     Where  is  it  found  ? 

57  31.  Fardels.     To  what  lines  in  Hamlet  does  Carlyle  allude  ? 

58  6.  Poison-chalice.  Referring  to  the  cup  of  hemlock  which 
Socrates  was  condemned  to  drink. 

58  11-13.  Eoger  Bacon,  an  English  monk  of  the  thirteenth 
century,  an  ardent  student  of  the  natural  sciences,  and  a  great 
investigator,  was  imprisoned  because  his  scientific  writings  were 
deemed  heretical.  Galileo  (1564-1642),  the  famous  Itahan  scien- 
tist, the  inventor  of  the  telescope,  was,  for  his  advocacy  of  the 
Copernican  theory  that  the  sun,  not  the  earth,  w^as  tlie  centre  of 
the  planetary  system,  compelled  by  the  Inquisition  to  abjure  his 
heretical  opinions,  and  sentenced  to  imprisonment.      Tasso  (1544 


96  EXPLANATORY  NOTES 

-1595),  the  author  of  the  great  Italian  epic,  Jerusalem  Delivered, 
was  confined  in  a  mad-house  for  seven  years,  possibly  for  political 
reasons,  though  liis  mind  was  undoubtedly  unsound.  Camoens 
(1524  ? -1580),  the  great  and  unfortunate  author  of  the  Portu- 
guese epic.  The  Lusiads. 

58  14.  So  ^''persecuted  they  the  Prophets.'^''  To  what  is  the 
reference  ? 

59  3.  Triumphed  over  Death,,  and  led  it  captive.  To  what  is  the 
allusion  ? 

59  21.  Restaurateur.  Restaurant-keeper  ;  that  is,  a  mere  fur- 
nisher of  superficial  comfort  or  entertainment. 

60  14.  Loche.  John  Locke  (1632-1704),  the  celebrated  Eng- 
lish philosopher. 

60  23.  ^'  Araucana.^''  A  long  Spanish  epic  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  by  Alonso  de  Ercilla,  dealing  with  the  Spanish  expedi- 
tion against  Arauco,  in  Chili,  in  which  the  author  took  part,  and 
durmg  which  he  composed  part  of  his  poem  under  the  circum- 
stances to  which  Carlyle  refers. 

61  4,  5.   *'  Golden-calf:''     To  what  is  the  allusion  ? 

61  32.  Rabelais.  Fran9ois  Rabelais  (1495  ?-1553),  the  great 
French  satirist  and  humorist,  author  of  Gargantua  and  Pantagruel. 

62  25.  Jean  Paul.  Johann  Paul  Friederich  Richter  (1763- 
1825),  a  celebrated  German  humorist  and  mystic,  known  best  by 
his  pseudonym,  Jean  Paul.  Carlyle  wrote  two  essays  on  him, 
translated  passages  from  his  works,  refers  to  him  repeatedly,  was 
exceedingly  fond  of  his  whimsical  style  and  humor,  and  was  to 
no  small  degree  influenced  by  it. 

66  2.  Plebiscita.  The  Latin  word  for  the  acts  of  the  popular 
assembly  ;  hence,  popular  judgments  or  decisions. 

66  20.  Swifts  and  Raiisseaus.  Jonathan  Swift,  the  author  of 
GuUiver^s  Travels^  and  Rousseau,  the  great  French  novelist  and 
reformer  of  the  eighteenth  century,  both  led  unhappy  and  unfor- 
tunate lives. 

66  25.  Rarasgate.  A  seaside  watering-place  in  Kent,  a  popular 
resort  for  London  excursionists.  Isle  of  Dogs.  A  peninsula  in 
the  Thames,  within  the  limits  of  London. 

66  35.  Valclusa  Fountain.  The  fountain  at  Valclusa  (Vau- 
cluse,  near  Avignon,  in  Southern  France)  celebrated  through  the 
lyrics  of  Petrarch,  the  great  Italian  poet  of  the  fourteenth  century. 


Longmans'  English  Classics 


Books  prescribed  for  1897  Examinations,  p.  2. 
Books  prescribed  for  1898  Examinations,  p.  3. 
Books  prescribed  for  1899  Examinations,  p.  5. 
Books  prescribed  for  1900  Examinations,  p.  6. 
Other  Volumes  in  the  Series,       -        -        p.  7. 


LONGMANS'  ENGLISH  CLASSICS 

EDITED    BY 

GEORGE  RICE  CARPENTER,  A.B., 

Professor  of  Rhetoric  and  English  Composition  in  Columbia  College. 

This  series  is  designed  for  use  in  secondary  schools 
in  accordance  with  the  system  of  study  recommended  and 
outlined  by  the  National  Committee  of  Ten,  and  in  direct 
preparation  for  the  uniform  entrance  requirements  in  Eng- 
lish, now  adopted  by  the  principal  American  colleges  and 
universities. 


Each  Volume  contains  full  Notes,  Introductions,  Bibliographies, 
and  other  explanatory  and  illustrative  matter.    Crown  8vo,  cloth. 


Books  Prescribed  for  the  iSgy  Examinations. 

FOR  READING. 

Shakspere's  As  You  Like  It.  With  an  introduction  by  Barrett 
Wendell,  A.B.,  Assistant  Professor  of  English  in  Harvard 
University,  and  notes  by  Wilfiam  Lyon  Phelps,  Ph.D.,  Assistant 
Professor  of  English  in  Yale  University.     Portrait. 

Defoe's  History  of  the  Plague  in  London.  Edited,  with 
introduction  and  notes,  by  Professor  G.  R.  Carpenter,  of 
Columbia  College.     With  Portrait  of  Defoe. 

Irving's  Tales  of  a  Traveller.  With  an  introduction  by 
Brander  Matthews,  Professor  of  Literature  in  Columbia  College, 
and  explanatory  notes  by  the  general  editor  of  the  series. 
With  Portrait  of  Irving. 


LONGMANS'   ENGLISH  CLASSICS 


Books  Prescribed  for  i8gy — Continued. 

George  Eliot's  Silas  Marner.  Edited,  with  introduction  and 
notes,  by  Robert  Herrick,  A.B.,  Assistant  Professor  of  Rhetoric 
in  the  University  of  Chicago.     With  Portrait  of  George  EHot. 

FOR  STUDY. 

Shakspere's  Merchant  of  Venice.  Edited,  with  introduction 
and  notes,  by  Francis  B.  Gummere,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  Enghsh 
in  Haverford  College;  Member  of  the  Conference  on  English 
of  the  National  Committee  of  Ten.     With  Portrait. 

Burke's  Speech  on  Conciliation  with  America.  Edited, 
with  introduction  and  notes,  by  Albert  S.  Cook,  Ph.D.,  Professor 
of  the  English  Language  and  Literature  in  Yale  University. 
With  Portrait  of  Burke. 

Scott's  Marmion.  Edited,  with  introduction  and  notes,  by- 
Robert  Morss  Lovett,  A.B.,  Assistant  Professor  of  English  in 
the  University  of  Chicago.     With  Portrait  of  Sir  Walter  Scott. 

Macaulay's  Life  of  Samuel  Johnson.  Edited,  with  intro- 
duction and  notes,  by  the  Rev.  Huber  Gray  Buehler,  of  the 
Hotchkiss  School,  Lakeville,  Conn.     With  Portrait  of  Johnson. 


Books  Prescribed  for  the  i8g8  Examinations. 

FOR  READING. 

Milton's  Paradise  Lost.  Books  L  and  IL  Edited,  with 
introduction  and  notes,  by  Edward  Everett  Hale,  Jr.,  Ph.D., 
Professor  of  Rhetoric  and  Logic  in  Union  College.  With 
Portrait  of  Milton. 

Pope's  Homer's  Iliad.  Books  L,  VL,  XXIL,  and  XXIV. 
Edited,  with  introduction  and  notes,  by  William  H.  Maxwell, 
A.M.,  Ph.D.,  Superintendent  of  Public  Instruction,  Brooklyn, 
N.  Y.,  and  Percival  Chubb,  Instructor  in  English,  Manual 
Training  High  School,  Brooklyn.     With  Portrait  of  Pope. 


LONGMANS'  ENGLISH  CLASSICS 


Books  Prescribed  for  i8g8 — Continued. 

The  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  Papers,  from  "The  Spectator." 
Edited,  with  introduction  and  notes,  by  D.  O.  S.  Lowell,  A.M., 
of  the  Roxbury  Latin  School,  Roxbury,  Mass.  With  Portrait 
of  Addison. 

Goldsmith's  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield.  Edited,  with  intro- 
duction and  notes,  by  Mary  A.  Jordan,  A.M.,  Professor  of 
Rhetoric  and  Old  English  in  Smith  College.  With  Portrait  of 
Goldsmith. 

Coleridge's  The  Rime  of  the  Ancient  Mariner.  Edited, 
with  introduction  and  notes,  by  Herbert  Bates,  A.B.,  Instructor 
in  English  in  the  University  of  Nebraska.  With  Portrait  of 
Coleridge. 

SouTHEY's  Life  of  Nelson.  Edited,  with  introduction  and 
notes,  by  Edwin  L.  Miller,  A.M.,  of  the  Englewood  High 
School,  Illinois.     With  Portrait  of  Nelson  and  plans  of  battles. 

Carlyle's  Essay  on  Burns.  Edited,  with  introduction  and 
notes,  by  Wilson  Farrand,  A.M.,  Associate  Principal  of  the 
Newark  Academy,  Newark,  N.  J.     With  Portrait  of  Burns. 

FOR  STUDY, 

Shakspere's  Macbeth.  Edited,  with  introduction  and  notes, 
by  John  Matthews  Manly,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  the  English 
Language  in  Brown  University.     With  Portrait  of  Shakspere. 

Burke's  Speech  on  Conciliation  with  America.  Edited, 
with  introduction  and  notes,  by  Albert  S.  Cook,  Ph.D.,  Pro- 
fessor of  the  English  Language  and  Literature  in  Yale 
University.     With  Portrait  of  Burke. 

De  Quincey's  Flight  of  a  Tartar  Tribe.  Edited,  with  intro- 
duction and  notes,  by  Charles  Sears  Baldwin,  Ph.D.,  Instructor 
in  Rhetoric  in  Yale  University.     With  Portrait  of  De  Quincey. 

Tennyson's  The  Princess.  Edited  with  Introduction  and 
Notes  by  George  Edward  Woodberry,  A.B.,  Professor  of 
Literature  in  Columbia  College.     With  Portrait  of  Tennyson. 


LONGMANS'  ENGLISH  CLASSICS 


^ooks  Prescribed  for  the  i8gg  Examinations. 

Pope's  Homer's  Iliad.  Books  I.,  VI.,  XXII.,  and  XXIV. 
Edited,  with  introduction  and  notes,  by  William  H.  Maxwell, 
A.M.,  Ph.D.,  Superintendent  of  Public  Instruction,  Brooklyn, 
N.  Y.,  and  Percival  Chubb,  Instructor  in  English,  Manual 
Training  High  School,  Brooklyn.     With  Portrait  of  Pope. 

Dryden's  Palamon  and  Arcite.  Edited,  with  introduction 
and  notes,  by  James  W.  Bright,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  English 
Philology  in  Johns  Hopkins  University.  [Preparing. 

The  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  Papers,  from  "The  Spectator." 
Edited,  with  introduction  and  notes,  by  D.  O.  S.  Lowell,  A.M., 
of  the  Roxbury  Latin  School,  Roxbury,  Mass.  With  Portrait 
of  Addison. 

Goldsmith's  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield.  Edited,  with  intro- 
duction and  notes,  by  Mary  A.  Jordan,  A.M.,  Professor  of 
Rhetoric  and  Old  English  in  Smith  College.  With  Portrait  of 
Goldsmith. 

Coleridge's  The  Rime  of  the  Ancient  Mariner.  Edited, 
with  introduction  and  notes,  by  Herbert  Bates,  A.B.,  Instructor 
in  English  in  the  University  of  Nebraska.  With  Portrait  of 
Coleridge. 

De  Quincey's  Flight  of  a  Tartar  Tribe.  Edited,  with  intro- 
duction and  notes,  by  Charles  Sears  Baldwin,  Ph.D.,  Instructor 
in  Rhetoric  in  Yale  University.     With  Portrait  of  De  Quincey. 

Cooper's  The  Last  of  the  Mohicans.  With  introduction  and 
explanatory  notes.  \In  preparation. 

FOR  STUDY. 

Shakspere's  Macbeth.  Edited,  with  introduction  and  notes, 
by  John  Matthews  Manly,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  the  English 
Language  in  Brown  University.     With  Portrait  of  Shakspere. 

Milton's  Paradise  Lost.  Books  I.  and  II.  Edited,  with 
introduction  and  notes,  by  Edward  Everett  Hale,  Jr.,  Ph.D., 
Professor  of  Rhetoric  and  Logic  in  Union  College.  W^ith 
Portrait  of  Milton. 


LONGMANS'  ENGLISH   CLASSICS 


Books  Prescribed  for  i8gg — Continued. 
Burke's  Speech  on  Conciliation  with  America.    Edited, 
with  introduction   and  notes,  by  Albert  S.  Cook,  Ph.D.,  Pro- 
fessor of  the  English  Language  and  Literature  in  Yale  Univer- 
sity.    With  Portrait  of  Burke. 

Carlyle's  Essay  on  Burns.  Edited,  with  introduction  and 
notes,  by  Wilson  Farrand,  A.M.,  Associate  Principal  of  the 
Newark  Academy,  Newark,  N.  J.     With  Portrait  of  Burns. 

Books  Prescribed  for  the  igoo  Examinations. 

(See  also  Preceding  Lists.) 

FOR  READING. 

Dryden's  Palamon  and  Arcite.  Edited  by  Professor  J.  W. 
Bright. 

Pope's   Homer's   Iliad.     Books   L,  VL,   XXIL,   and  XXIV. 

Edited  by  Superintendent  Maxwell  and  Percival  Chubb. 

The  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  Papers.  Edited  by  Dr.  D.  O.  S. 
Lowell. 

Goldsmith's  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield.  Edited  by  Professor 
Mary  A.  Jordan. 

De  Quincey's  Flight  of  a  Tartar  Tribe.  Edited  by  Dr.  C. 
S.  Baldwin. 

Tennyson's  The  Princess.  Edited  by  Professor  G.  E.  Wood- 
berry. 

Scott's  Ivanhoe.  [In  preparation. 

Cooper's  The  Last  of  the  Mohicans.  [Ln  preparation. 

FOR  STUDY. 

Shakspere's  Macbeth.     Edited  by  Professor  Manly. 

Milton's  Paradise  Lost.  Books  I.  and  II.  Edited  by  Pro- 
fessor E.  E.  Hale,  Jr. 

Burke's  Speech  on  Conciliation  with  America.  Edited  by 
Dr.  A.  S.  Cook. 

Macaulay's  Essays  on  Milton  and  Addison. 


LONGMANS'  ENGLISH  CLASSICS 


The  following  volu7nes  are  also  ready  : 
Scott's  Woodstock.  Edited,  with  introduction  and  notes,  by- 
Bliss  Perry,  A.M.,  Professor  of  Oratory  and  Esthetic  Criticism 
in  the  College  of  New  Jersey.  With  Portrait  of  Sir  Walter 
Scott. 
Macaulay's  Essay  on  Milton.  Edited,  with  introduction  and 
notes,  by  James  Greenleaf  Croswell,  A.B.,  Head-master  of  the 
Brearley  School,  New  York,  formerly  Assistant  Professor  of 
Greek  in  Harvard  University.     With  Portrait  of  Macaulay. 

Shakspere's  a  Midsummer  Night's  Dream.  Edited,  with 
introduction  and  notes,  by  George  Pierce  Baker,  A.B.,  Assistant 
Professor  of  English  in  Harvard  University.  With  Frontispiece, 
'Imitation  of  an  Elizabethan  Stage.' 

Webster's  First  Bunker  Hill  Oration,  together  with  other 
Addresses  relating  to  the  Revolution.  Edited,  with  introduction 
and  notes,  by  Fred  Newton  Scott,  Ph.D.,  Junior  Professor  of 
Rhetoric  in  the  University  of  Michigan.  With  Portrait  of 
Daniel  Webster. 

Milton's  L'Allegro,  II  Penseroso,  Comus,  and  Lycidas. 
Edited,  with  introductions  and  notes,  by  William  P.  Trent,  A.M., 
Professor  of  English  in  the  University  of  the  South.  With 
Portrait  of  Milton. 


"  The  series  as  a  whole  certainly  marks  .  .  .  a  clear  advance 
beyond  all  its  predecessors." — The  Educational  Review^  February,  i8g6. 

"  We  have  seen  no  fitter  school  editions  of  these  works  which  are 
now  included  in  the  preparatory  reading  required  by  all  the  leading 
colleges  of  the  country." — The  Critic,  New  York. 

"  The  Suggestions  for  Teachers  are  likely  to  be  of  great  value,  not 
only  because  many  teachers  need  assistance  in  such  work,  but  also 
because  they  must  tend  to  introduce  the  uniformity  of  method  that  is 
hardly  less  valuable  than  the  uniformity  of  the  courses  themselves." 

—  The  Educational  Review,  February,  1896. 

"I  take  great  pleasure  in  acknowledging  the  receipt  of  the  two 
beautiful  volumes  in  your  English  Classics.  .  .  .  They  are  not 
only  thoroughly  well  edited,  but  excellent  specimens  of  book-making, 
such  books  as  a  student  may  take  pleasure  in  having,  not  merely  for  a 
task  book  but  for  a  permanent  possession.  It  is  a  wise  project  on  your 
part,  I  think,  to  accustom  young  students  to  value  books  for  their 
intrinsic  worth,  and  that  by  the  practical  way  of  making  the  books  good 
and  attractive." — Prof.  John  F.  GenuNG,  Amherst  College. 


8  LONGMANS'   ENGLISH  CLASSICS 

*'  You  are  to  be  congratulated  upon  the  excellence  of  the  series  of 
English  Classics  which  you  are  now  publishing,  if  I  may  judge  of  it 
by  the  three  numbers  I  have  examined.  ...  Of  these,  the  intro- 
ductions, the  suggestions  to  teachers,  the  chronological  tables,  and  the 
notes  are  most  admirable  in  design  and  execution.  The  editor-in-chief 
and  his  associates  have  rendered  a  distinct  service  to  secondary  schools, 
and  the  publishers  have  done  superior  mechanical  work  in  the  issue  of 
this  series." — Charles  C.  Ramsay,  Principal  of  Durfee  High  School, 
Fall  River,  Mass. 

*'  With  the  two  (volumes)  I  have  already  acknowledged  and  these 
four,  I  find  myself  increasingly  pleased  as  I  examine.  As  a  series  the 
books  have  two  strong  points:  there  is  a  unity  of  method  in  editing  that 
I  have  seen  in  no  other  series;  the  books  are  freer  from  objections  in 
regard  to  the  amount  and  kind  of  editing  than  any  other  series  I  know." 
— Byron  Groce,  Master  in  English,  Boston  Latin  School. 

**  I  am  your  debtor  for  two  specimens  of  your  series  of  English 
Classics,  designed  for  secondary  schools  in  preparation  for  entrance 
examinations  to  college.  With  their  clear  type,  good  paper,  sober  and 
attractive  binding — good  enough  for  any  library  shelves — with  their 
introductions,  suggestions  to  teachers,  and  notes  at  the  bottom  of  the 
pages,  I  do  not  see  how  much  more  could  be  desired." 

—Prof.  D.  L.  Maulsby,  Tufts  College. 

**  Admirably  adapted  to  accomplish  what  you  intend — to  interest 
young  persons  in  thoughtful  reading  of  noble  literature.  The  help  given 
seems  just  what  is  needed;  its  generosity  is  not  of  the  sort  to  make  the 
young  student  unable  to  help  himself.  I  am  greatly  pleased  with  the  plan 
and  with  its  execution." — Prof.  C.  B.  Bradley,  University  of  California; 
Member  of  English  Conference  of  the  National  Committee  of  Ten. 

"  Let  me  thank  you  for  four  more  volumes  of  your  excellent  series 
of  English  Classics.  ...  As  specimens  of  book-making  they  are 
among  the  most  attractive  books  I  have  ever  seen  for  school  use;  and  the 
careful  editing  supplies  just  enough  information  to  stimulate  a  young 
reader.  I  hope  that  the  series  may  soon  be  completed  and  be  widely 
used." — Prof.  W.  E.  Mead,  Wesleyan  University. 

*'The  series  is  admirably  planned,  the  '  Suggestions  to  Teachers* 
being  a  peculiarly  valuable  feature.  I  welcome  all  books  looking  toward 
better  English  teaching  in  the  secondary  schools." 

— Prof.  Katherine  Lee  Bates,  Wellesley  College. 

"  They  are  thoroughly  edited  and  attractively  presented,  and  cannot 
fail  to  be  welcome  when  used  for  the  college  entrance  requirements  in 
English."— Prof.  Charles  F.  Richardson,  Dartmouth  College. 


LONGMANS'   ENGLISH  CLASSICS 


Irving's  '  Tales  of  a  Traveller.' 

*'  I  feel  bound  to  say  that,  if  the  series  of  English  Classics  is 
carried  out  after  the  plan  of  this  initial  volume,  it  will  contribute  much 
toward  making  the  study  of  literature  a  pure  deHghJ;." 

— Prof.  A.  G.  Newcomer,  Iceland  Stanford  Jr.  University. 

**  I  have  looked  through  the  first  volume  of  your  English  Classics, 
Irving's  *  Tales  of  a  Traveller,'  and  do  not  see  how  literature  could  be 
made  more  attractive  to  the  secondary  schools." — Prof.  Edw^ard  A. 
Allen,  University  of  Missouri  ;  Member  of  the  English  Conference  of 
the  National  Committee  of  Ten. 

*'  I  have  received  your  Irving's  *  Tales  of  a  Traveller'  and  examined 
it  with  much  pleasure.  The  helpful  suggestions  to  teachers,  the 
judicious  notes,  the  careful  editing,  and  the  substantial  binding  make  it 
the  most  desirable  volume  for  class  use  on  the  subject,  that  has  come  to 
my  notice." — Edwin  Cornell,  Principal  of  Central  Valley  Union 
School.  N.  Y. 

George  Eliot's  '  Silas  Marner.' 

' '  This  book  is  really  attractive  and  inviting.  The  introduction, 
particularly  the  suggestions  to  pupils  and  teachers,  is  a  piece  of  real 
helpfulness  and  wisdom." 

— D.  E.  Bowman,  Principal  of  High  School,  Waterville,  Me. 

**  The  edition  of  'Silas  Marner'  recently  sent  out  by  you  leaves 
nothing  undone.  I  find  the  book  handsome,  the  notes  sensible  and 
clear.  I'm  glad  to  see  a  book  so  well  adapted  to  High  School  needs, 
and  I  shall  recommend  it,  without  reserve,  as  a  safe  and  clean  book  to 
put  before  our  pupils." 

— James  W.  McLane,  Central  High  School,  Cleveland,  O. 

Scott's  '  Woodstock.* 

"  Scott's  '  Woodstock,'  edited  by  Professor  Bliss  Perry,  deepens  the 
impression  made  by  the  earlier  numbers  that  this  series,  Longmans' 
English  Classics,  is  one  of  unusual  excellence  in  the  editing,  and  will 
prove  a  valuable  auxiliary  in  the  reform  of  English  teaching  now 
generally  in  progress.  .  .  .  We  have,  in  addition  to  the  unabridged 
text  of  the  novel,  a  careful  editorial  introduction  ;  the  author's  intro- 
duction, preface  and  notes  ;  a  reprint  of  '  The  Just  Devil  of  Woodstock'; 
and  such  foot-notes  as  the  student  will  need  as  he  turns  from  page  to 
page.  Besides  all  this  apparatus,  many  of  the  chapters  have  appended 
a  few  suggestive  hints  for  character-study,  collateral  reading  and  dis- 
cussions of  the  art  of  fiction.  All  this  matter  is  so  skillfully  distributed 
that  it  does  not  weigh  upon  the  conscience,  and  is  not  likely  to  make  the 


lo  LONGMANS'   ENGLISH  CLASSICS 

student  forget  that  he  is,  after  all,  reading  a  novel  chiefly  for  the 
pleasure  it  affords.  The  entire  aim  of  this  volume  and  its  companions 
is  literary  rather  than  historical  or  linguistic,  and  in  this  fact  their  chief 
value  is  to  be  found."  — The  Dial. 

"I  heartily  approve  of  the  manner  in  which  the  editor's  work  has 
been  done.  This  book,  if  properly  used  by  the  teacher  and  supple- 
mented by  the  work  so  clearly  suggested  in  the  notes,  may  be  made  of 
great  value  to  students,  not  only  as  literature  but  as  affording  oppor- 
tunity for  historical  research  and  exercise  in  composition." 

— Lillian  G.  Kimball,  State  Normal  School,  Oshkosh,  Wis. 

Defoe's  'History  of  the  Plague  in  London.' 

"He  gives  an  interesting  biography  of  Defoe,  an  account  of  his 
works,  a  discussion  of  their  ethical  influence  (including  that  of  this 
'somewhat  sensational'  novel),  some  suggestions  to  teachers  and  students, 
and  a  list  of  references  for  future  study.  This  is  all  valuable  and  sugges- 
tive. The  reader  wishes  that  there  were  more  of  it.  Indeed,  the  criticism 
I  was  about  to  offer  on  this  series  is  perhaps  their  chief  excellence. 
One  wishes  that  the  introductions  were  longer  and  more  exhaustive. 
For,  contrary  to  custom,  as  expressed  in  Gratiano's  query,  'Who  riseth 
from  a  feast  with  that  keen  appetite  that  he  sits  down  ? '  the  young 
student  will  doubtless  finish  these  introductions  hungering  for  more. 
And  this,  perhaps,  was  the  editor's  object  in  view,  viz.,  that  the  intro- 
ductory and  explanatory  matter  should  be  suggestive  and  stimulating 
rather  than  complete  and  exhaustive  !  " — Educational  Review. 

"  I  have  taken  great  pleasure  in  examining  your  edition  of  Defoe's 
Plague  in  London.'  The  introduction  and  notes  are  beyond  reproach, 
and  the  binding  and  typography  are  ideal.  The  American  school-boy 
is  to  be  congratulated  that  he  at  length  may  study  his  English  from 
books  in  so  attractive  a  dress." — George  N.  McKnight,  Instructor  in 
English,  Cornell  University. 

"  I  am  greatly  obliged  to  you  for  the  copy  of  the  'Journal  of  the 
Plague.*  I  am  particularly  pleased  with  Professor  Carpenter's  intro- 
duction and  his  handling  of  the  difficult  points  in  Defoe's  life." — Ham- 
mond Lamont,  A.B.,  Associate  Professor  of  Composition  and  Rhetoric 
in  Brown  University. 

Macaulay's  'Essay  on  Milton.' 

"  I  have  examined  the  Milton  and  am  much  pleased  with  it ;  it  fully 
sustains  the  high  standard  of  the  other  works  of  this  series  ;  the  intro- 
duction, the  suggestions  to  teachers,  and  the  notes  are  admirable." 

— William  Nichols,  The  Nichols  School,  Buffalo,  N.  Y. 


LONGMANS'  ENGLISH  CLASSICS 


''I  beg  to  acknowledge  with  thanks  the  receipt  of  Macaulay's 
'  Essay  on  Milton  '  and  Webster's  '  First  Bunker  Hill  Oration '  in  your 
series  of  English  Classics.  These  works  for  preparatory  study  are 
nowhere  better  edited  or  presented  in  more  artistic  form.  I  am  glad  you 
find  it  possible  to  publish  so  good  a  book  for  so  little  money." 

— Prof.  W.  H.  Crawshaw,  Colgate  University. 

"  I  am  especially  pleased  with  Mr.  Croswell's  introduction  to,  and 
notes  at  the  bottom  of  the  page  of,  his  edition  of  Macaulay's  '  Essay  on 
Milton.'  I  have  never  seen  notes  on  a  text  that  were  more  admirable 
than  these.  They  contain  just  the  information  proper  to  impart,  and 
are  unusually  well  expressed." 

— Charles  C.  Ramsay,  Principal  of  Fall  River  High  School. 

Coleridge's  'Ancient  Mariner.' 

"After  an  introduction  which  is  well  calculated  to  awaken  interest 
both  in  Coleridge  himself  and  in  poetry  as  a  form  of  literature,  the 
poem  is  set  before  us  with  Coleridge's  own  glosses  in  the  margin.  Notes 
are  added  at  the  bottom  of  each  page.  These  notes  are  well  worth 
examination  for  the  pedagogic  skill  they  display.  They  provide,  not  so 
much  information  about  the  text,  though  all  necessary  explanation  does 
appear,  but  suggestion  and  incitement  to  the  discovery  by  the  pupil  for 
himself  of  the  elements  in  the  poem  which  the  hasty  reader  only  feels,  if 
he  does  not  lose  them  altogether.  .  .  .  Any  good  teacher  will  find 
this  edition  a  veritable  help  to  the  appreciation  of  poetry  by  his  pupils." 
— Principal  Ray  Greene  Huling,  English  High  School,  Cambridge, 
Mass. 

"  Mr.  Bates  is  an  interesting  and  charming  writer  of  verse  as  well  as 
prose,  and  makes  a  helpful  and  appreciative  teacher  to  follow  through 
the  intricacies  of  the  poem  in  question.  In  addition  to  extensive  notes 
and  comments,  the  book  has  a  well-planned,  brightly  written  introduc- 
tion, comprising  a  Coleridge  biography,  bibliography,  and  chronological 
table,  a  definition  of  poetry  in  general,  and  a  thoughtful  study  of  the 
origin,  form,  and  criticisms  of  this  particular  poem,  '  The  Ancient 
Mariner.'  Teachers  and  students  of  English  are  to  be  congratulated  on. 
and  Mr.  Bates  and  his  publishers  thanked  for,  this  acquisition  to  the 
field  of  literary  study." — Literary  World,  Boston. 

Milton's  •  L'Allegro,  II  Penseroso,  etc' 

"  Professor  Trent's  sympathetic  treatment  on  the  literary  side  of 
the  subject  matter,  makes  the  introductions  and  notes  of  more  than  usual 
interest  and  profit  ;  and  I  think  that  it  is  just  such  editing  as  this  that 
our  younger  students  need  in  approaching  the  works  of  the  great  poets." 
— J.  Russell  Hayes,  Assistant  Professor  of  English,  Swarthmore 
College,  Pa. 


LONGMANS'   ENGLISH  CLASSICS 


It  has  been  the  aim  of  the  publishers  to  secure  editors 
of  high  reputation  for  scholarship,  experience,  and  skill, 
and  to  provide  a  series  thoroughly  adapted,  by  uniformity 
of  plan  and  thoroughness  of  execution,  to  present  educa- 
tional needs.  The  chief  distinguishing  features  of  the 
series  are  the  following  : 

I.  Each  volume  contains  full  **  Suggestions  for  Teach- 
ers and  Students,"  with  bibliographies,  and,  in  many 
cases,  hsts  of  topics  recommended  for  further  reading  or 
study,  subjects  for  themes  and  compositions,  specimen 
examination  papers,  etc.  It  is  therefore  hoped  that  the 
series  will  contribute  largely  to  the  working  out  of  sound 
methods  in  teaching  English. 

2.  The  works  prescribed  for  reading  are  treated,  in  every 
case,  as  literature,  not  as  texts  for  narrow  linguistic  study, 
and  edited  with  a  view  to  interesting  the  student  in  the 
book  in  question  both  in  itself  and  as  representative  of  a 
literary  type  or  of  a  period  of  literature,  and  of  leading 
him  on  to  read  other  standard  works  of  the  same  age  or 
kind  understandingly  and  appreciatively. 

3.  These  editions  are  not  issued  anonymously,  nor  are 
they  hackwork, — the  result  of  mere  compilation.  They 
are  the  original  work  of  scholars  and  men  of  letters  who 
are  conversant  with  the  topics  of  which  they  treat. 

4.  Colleges  and  preparatory  schools  are  both  repre- 
sented in  the  list  of  editors  (the  preparatory  schools  more 
prominently  in  the  lists  for  1897  and  1898),  and  it  is  in- 
tended that  the  series  shall  exemplify  the  ripest  methods 
of  American  scholars  for  the  teaching  of  English — the 
result  in  some  cases  of  years  of  actual  experience  in 
secondary  school  work,  and,  in  others,  the  formulation  of 
the  experience  acquired  by  professors  who  observe  care- 
fully the  needs  of  students  who  present  themselves  for 
admission  to  college. 

5.  The  volumes  are  uniform  in  size  and  style,  are  well 
printed  and  bound,  and  constitute  a  well-edited  set  of 
standard  works,  fit  for  permanent  use  and  possession — a 
nucleus  for  a  library  of  English  literature. 


LONGMAN'S,   GREEN,  <Sr*  CO.' S  PUBLICATIONS. 


EPOCHS   OF   AMERICAN    HISTORY. 

MESSRS.  LONGMANS,  GREEN,  «&  CO.  have  the  pleasure  to  state 
that  they  are  now  publishing  a  short  series  of  books  treating  of  the  history 
of  America,  under  the  general  title  Epochs  of  American  History.  The 
series  is  under  the  editorship  of  Dr.  Albert  Bushnell  Hart,  Assistant 
Professor  of  History  in  Harvard  College,  who  has  also  prepared  all  the  maps 
for  the  several  volumes.  Each  volume  contains  about  300  pages,  similar  in 
size  and  style  to  the  page  of  the  volumes  in  Messrs.  Longmans'  series, 
*  Epochs  of  Modern  History,  *  with  full  marginal  analysis,  working  bibliogra- 
phies, maps,  and  index.  The  volumes  are  issued  separately,  and  each  is 
complete  in  itself.  The  volumes  now  ready  provide  a  continuous  history 
of  the  United  States  from  the  foundation  of  the  Colonies  to  the  present 
time,  suited  to  and  intended  for  class  use  as  well  as  for  general  reading  and 
reference. 

*^*  The  volumes  of  this  series  already  issued  have  been  adopted  for  use  as  text- 
books in  nearly  all  the  leading^  Colleges  and  in  many  JS/ormal  Schools  and  other 
institutions.  A  prospectus y  showing  Contents  and  scope  of  each  volume^  specimen 
pages,  etc. ,  will  be  sent  on  application  to  the  Publishers, 


I.     THE  COLONIES,  1492-1750. 

By  Reuben  Gold  Thwaites,  Secretary  of  the  State  Historical  Society  of 
Wisconsin;  author  of  "  Historic  Waterways/'  etc.  With  four  colored 
maps.  pp.  xviii.-30i.     Cloth.     $1.25. 

CORNELL    UNIVERSITY. 

*'  I  beg  leave  to  acknowledge  your  courtesy  in  sending  me  a  copy  of  the  first 
volume  in  the  series  of  '  Epochs  of  American  History,'  which  I  have  read  with 
great  interest  and  satisfaction.  I  am  pleased,  as  everyone  must  be,  with  the 
mechanical  execution  of  the  book,  with  the  maps,  and  with  the  fresh  and  valua- 
ble 'Suggestions'  and  'References.'  ....  The  work  itself  appears  to 
me  to  be  quite  remarkable  for  its  comprehensiveness,  and  it  presents  a  vast 
array  of  subjects  in  a  way  that  is  admirably  fair,  clear  and  orderly." — Professor 
Moses  Coit  Tyler,  Ithaca,  N.  Y. 

WILLIAMS   COLLEGE. 

•'  It  is  just  the  book  needed  for  college  students,  not  too  brief  to  be  uninter- 
esting, admirable  in  its  plan,  and  well  furnished  with  references  to  accessible 
authorities." — Professor  Richard  A.  Rice,  Williamstown,  Mass. 

VASSAR   COLLEGE. 

"  Perhaps  the  best  recommendation  of '  Thwaites*  American  Colonies  '  is 
the  fact  that  the  day  after  it  was  received  I  ordered  copies  for  class-room  use. 
The  book  is  admirable." — Professor  Lucy  M.  Salmon,  Poughkeepsie,  N.  Y. 

"  All  that  could  be  desired.  This  volume  is  more  like  a  fair  treatment  of  the 
whole  subject  of  the  colonies  than  any  work  of  the  sort  yet  produced.'* 

—  The  Critic. 

"  The  subject  is  virtually  a  fresh  one  as  approached  by  Mr.  Thwaites.  It  is 
a  pleasure  to  call  especial  attention  to  some  most  helpful  bibliographical  notes 
provided  at  the  head  of  each  chapter  '' — The  Nation, 


LONGMANS,  GREEN,  &  CO.,  91-93  Fifth  Avenue,  New  York. 


LONGMANS,   GREEN,   <5r»  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS, 


EPOCHS   OF   AMERICAN   HISTORY. 

II.     FORMATION    OF   THE   UNION,    1750-1829. 

By  Albert  Bushnell  Hart,  Ph.D.  Assistant  Professor  of  History  in 
Harvard  University,  Member  of  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society, 
Author  of  **  Introduction  to  the  Study  of  Federal  Government," 
"Epoch  Maps,"  etc.  With  five  colored  maps.  pp.  XX.-278.  Cloth. 
$1.25. 

The  second  volume  of  the  Epochs  of  American  History  aims  to  follow 
out  the  principles  laid  down  for  "The  Colonies,"— the  study  of  causes 
rather  than  of  events,  the  development  of  the  American  nation  out  of  scattered 
and  inharmonious  colonies.  The  throwing  off  of  English  control,  the  growth 
out  of  narrow  political  conditions,  the  struggle  against  foreign  domination,  and 
the  extension  of  popular  government,  are  all  parts  of  the  uninterrupted  process 
of  the  Formation  of  the  Union. 

LELAND    STANFORD    JR.     UNIVERSITY. 

••  The  large  and  sweeping  treatment  of  the  subject,  which  shows  the  true  re- 
lations of  the  events  preceding  and  following  the  revolution,  to  the  revolution 
itself,  is  a  real  addition  to  the  literature  of  the  subject ;  while  the  bibliography 
prefixed  to  each  chapter,  adds  incalculably  to  the  value  of  the  work." — Mary 
Sheldon  Barnes,  Palo  Alto,  Cal. 

"  It  is  a  careful  and  conscientious  study  of  the  period  and  its  events,  and 
should  find  a  place  among  the  text-books  of  our  public  schools. " 

— Boston  Transcript. 

"  Professor  Hart  has  compressed  a  vast  deal  of  information  into  his  volume, 
and  makes  many  things  most  clear  and  striking.  His  maps,  showing  the  terri- 
torial growth  of  the  United  States,  are  extremely  interesting." 

— New  York  Times. 

"  .  .  The  causrs  of  the  Revolution  are  clearly  and  cleverly  condensed  into 
a  few  pages.  .  .  The  maps  in  the  work  are  singularly  useful  even  to  adults. 
There  are  five  of  these,  which  are  alone  worth  the  price  of  the  volume." 

— Magazine  of  American  History. 

"The  formation  period  of  our  nation  is  treated  with  much  care  and  with 
gfreat  precision.  P'ach  chapter  is  prefaced  with  copious  references  to  authori- 
ties, which  are  valuable  to  the  student  who  desires  to  pursue  his  readmg  more 
extensively.  There  are  five  valuable  maps  showing  the  growth  of  our  country 
by  successive  stages  and  repeated  acquisition  of  territory." 

— Boston  Advertiser. 

*'  Dr.  Hart  is  not  only  a  master  of  the  art  of  condensation,  ...  he  is 
what  is  even  of  greater  importance,  an  interpreter  of  history.  He  perceives 
the  logic  of  historic  events  ;  hence,  in  his  condensation,  he  does  not  neglect 
proportion,  and  more  than  once  he  gives  the  student  valuable  clues  to  the 
Eolution  of  historical  problems." — Atlantic  Monthly. 

"A  valuable  volume  of  a  valuable  series.  The  author  has  written  with  a 
full  knowledge  of  his  subject,  and  we  have  little  to  say  except  in  praise." 

— English  Historical  Review, 


LONGMANS,  GREEN,  &  CO.,  Qi-QS  Fifth  Avenue,  New  York. 


LONGMANS,   GREEN,   ^  CO:S  PUBLICATIONS. 


EPOCHS   OF   AMERICAN    HISTORY, 


III.  DIVISION   AND   RE-UNION,  1829-1889. 

By  WooDROW  Wilson,   Ph.D.,   LL.D.,    Professor  of  Jurisprudence   in 

Princeton  College  ;    Author  of  "Congressional  Government,"   **The 

State— Elements  of  Historical  and  Practical  Politics,"  etc.,  etc.     With 

five  colored  Maps.     346  pages.     Cloth,  $1.25. 

"  We  regret  that  we  have  not  space  for  more  quotations  from  this  uncom 
monly  strong,  impartial,  interesting  book.  Giving  only  enough  facts  to 
elucidate  the  matter  discussed,  it  omits  no  important  questions.  It  furnishes 
the  reader  clear-cut  views  of  the  right  and  the  wrong  of  them  all.  It  gives  ad- 
mirable pen-portraits  of  the  great  personages  of  the  period  with  as  much  free- 
dom from  bias,  and  as  much  pains  to  be  just,  as  if  the  author  were  delineruing 
Pericles,  or  Alcibiades,  Sulla,  or  Caesar.  Dr.  Wilson  has  earned  the  gratitude  of 
seekers  after  truth  by  his  masterly  production."— A^.  C.  University  Magazine, 

"  This  admirable  little  volume  is  one  of  the  few  books  which  nearly  meet  our 
ideal  of  history.  It  is  causal  history  in  the  truest  sense,  tracing  the  workings  of 
latent  influences  and  far-reaching  conditions  of  their  outcome  in  striking  tact, 
yet  the  whole  current  of  events  is  kept  in  view,  and  the  great  personaHtirs  of 
the  time,  the  nerve-centers  of  history,  live  intensely  and  in  due  proportion  in 
these  pages.  We  do  not  know  the  equal  of  this  book  for  a  brief  and  trust- 
worthy, and,  at  the  same  time,  abriUiantly  written  and  sufficient  history  of  these 
sixty  years.  We  heartily  commend  it,  not  only  for  general  reading,  but  as  an 
admirable  text-book." — Post-Graduate  and  Wooster  Quarterly, 

*'  Considered  as  a  general  history  of  the  United  States  from  1829  to  1889, 
his  book  is  marked  by  excellent  sense  of  proportion,  extensive  knowledge,  im- 
partiality of  judgment,  unusual  power  of  summarizing,  and  an  acute  puhtical 
sense.     Few  writers  can  more  vividly  set  forth  the  views  of  parties." 

— Atlantic  Monthly. 

"  Students  of  United  States  history  may  thank  Mr.  Wilson  for  an  extreme- 
ly clear  and  careful  rendering  of  a  period  very  difficult  to  handle  .  .  .  they 
will  find  themselves  materially  aided  in  easy  comprehension  of  the  political 
situation  of  the  country  by  the  excellent  maps.'' — N,   V   Times. 

"  Professor  Wilson  writes  in  a  clear  and  forcible  style.  .  .  .  The  bibli- 
ographical references  at  the  head  of  each  chapter  are  both  well  selected  and 
well  arranged,  and  add  greatly  to  the  value  of  the  work,  which  appears  to  be 
especially  designed  for  use  in  instruction  in  colleges  and  preparatory  schools." 

—  Yale  Review. 

"  It  is  written  in  a  style  admirably  clear,  vigorous,  and  attractive,  a  thorough 
grasp  of  the  subject  is  shown,  and  the  development  of  the  theme  is  lucid  and 
orderly,  while  the  tone  is  judicial  and  fair,  nnd  the  deductions  sensible  and 
dispassionate — so  far  as  we  can  see.  ...  It  would  be  difficult  to  construct 
a  better  manual  of  the  subject  than  this,  and  it  adds  greatly  to  the  value  of  this 
useful  series." — Hartford  Courant. 

".  .  .  One  of  the  most  valuable  historical  works  that  has  appeared  in 
many  years.  The  delicate  period  of  our  country's  history,  with  which  this 
work  is  largely  taken  up,  is  treated  by  the  author  with  an  impartiality  that  is 
almost  unique." — Columbia  Law  Times. 


LONGMANS,  GREEN,  &  CO.,  91-93  Fifth  Avenue,  New  York. 


LONGMAN'S,    GREEN,   &^  CO.KS  PUBLICATIONS. 

ENGLISH    HISTORY    FOR   AMERICANS. 

By  Thomas  Wentworth  Higginson,  Author  of  "Young  Folks'  His- 
tory of  the  United  States,"  etc.,  and  Edward  Channing,  Assistant 
Professor  of  History  in  Harvard  University.  With  77  Illustrations,  6 
Colored  Maps,  Bibliography,  a  Chronological  Table  of  Contents,  and 
Index.     i2mo.     Pp.  xxxii-334.     Teachers'  price,  f  1.20. 

The  name  "  Enghsh  History  for  Americans,"  which  suggests  the  key-note  of 
this  book,  is  based  on  the  simple  fact  that  it  is  not  the  practice  of  American 
readers,  old  or  young,  to  give  to  English  history  more  than  a  limited  portion  of 
their  hours  of  study.  ...  It  seems  clear  that  such  readers  will  use  their 
time  to  the  best  advantage  if  they  devote  it  mainly  to  those  events  in  English 
annals  which  have  had  the  most  direct  influence  on  the  history  and  institutions 
of  their  own  land.  .  .  .  The  authors  of  this  book  have  therefore  boldly 
ventured  to  modify  in  their  narrative  the  accustomed  scale  of  proportion  ;  while 
it  has  been  their  wish,  in  the  treatment  of  every  detail,  to  accept  the  best  re- 
sult of  modern  English  investigation,  and  especially  to  avoid  all  unfair  or 
one-sided  judgments.    .     •    .     Extracts  from  Author'' s  Preface, 

DR.  W.  T.  HARRIS,  U.  S.  COMMISSIONER  OF  EDUCATION. 
•*  I  take  great  pleasure  in  acknowledging  the  receipt  of  the  book,  and  be- 
lieve it  to  be  the  best  introduction  to  English  history  hitherto  made  for  the  use 
of  schools.  It  is  just  what  is  needed  in  the  school  and  in  the  family.  It  is  the 
first  history  of  England  that  I  have  seen  which  gives  proper  attention  to  socio- 
logy and  the  evolution  of  political  ideas,  without  neglecting  what  is  picturesque 
and  interesting  to  the  popular  taste.  1  he  device  of  placing  the  four  historical 
maps  at  the  beginning  and  end  deserves  special  mention  for  its  convenience. 
Allow  me  to  congratulate  you  on  the  publication  of  so  excellent  a  text-book." 

ROXBURY  LATIN  SCHOOL. 

•'.  .  .  The  most  noticeable  and  commendable  feature  in  the  book  seems 
to  be  its  Unity.  ...  I  felt  the  same  reluctance  to  lay  the  volume  down 
.  ,  .  that  one  experiences  in  reading  a  great  play  or  a  well-constructed 
novel.  Several  things  besides  the  unity  conspire  thus  seductively  to  lead  the 
reader  on.  The  page  is  open  and  attractive,  the  chapters  are  short,  the  type 
is  large  and  clear,  the  pictures  are  well  chosen  and  significant,  a  surprising 
number  of  anecdotes  told  in  a  crisp  and  masterful  manner  throw  valuable  side- 
lights on  the  main  narrative  ;  the  philosophy  of  history  is  undeniably  there,  but 
sugar-coated,  and  the  graceful  style  would  do  credit  to  a  Macaulay.  I  shall 
immediately  recommend  it  for  use  in  our  school." — Dr.  D.  O.  S.  Lowell. 

LAVi^RENCEVILLE   SCHOOL. 

*'In  answer  to  your  note  of  February  23d  I  beg  to  say  that  we  have  intro- 
duced your  Higginson's  English  History  into  our  graduating  class  and  are 
much  pleased  with  it.  Therefore  whatever  endorsement  I,  as  a  member  of  the 
Committee  of  Ten,  could  give  the  book  has  already  been  given  by  my  action 
in  placing  it  in  our  classes." — James  C.  Mackenzie,  Lawrenceville,  N.  J. 

ANN   arbor    HIGH    SCHOOL. 

"  It  seems  to  me  the  book  will  do  for  English  history  in  this  country  what 
the  '  Young  Folks'  History  of  the  United  States  '  has  done  for  the  history  of  our 
own  country — and  I  consider  this  high  praise." 

— T.  G.  Pattengill,  Ann  Arbor,  Mich. 


LONGMANS,  GREEN,  &  CO.,  9i-93  Fi^h  Avenue,  New  York, 


mXTT'"    •Dr»0"»"^    T'' 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 

Renewed  books  are  subjea  to  immediate  recall. 


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